


This Means War

by CaliBDiamond



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Action, Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, Other, light fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaliBDiamond/pseuds/CaliBDiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is having a hard time remembering whose side he's on. Between nightmares and rampant thoughts of how he ever managed to become a hero in the eye of the public, he's feeling mixed up and lost in more ways than one. <br/>Recently put on an indefinite leave of absence, Syriana De Luca isn't in any better shape. For the last three years, her life seems to have been on a sharp decline. The only thing that keeps her going, is her on and off relationship with Tony.<br/>After an incident that leaves the two sharing living space, Tony and Syri discover that they're both uncertain about their choices of playing for the so-called right team, and devise a plan to expose S.H.I.E.L.D for what the organization really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Regrets (Prologue)

I think if my father were alive today, he’d finally have a real reason to stand up and tell me how disappointed he is with me and the man that I’ve become. There would be truth behind his accusations of how childish and stupid I can be. He’d probably cut me off from every bank account in my own name, and throw me out of the family without remorse. And for once, I don’t think I’d be able to blame him for it. I brought this upon myself, there’s no denying that. But I shouldn’t have dragged _her_ into this. We were angry and fed up and we acted on that anger like a pair of rebellious teenagers. We preached a sort of anarchy to each other that only we understood. We thought that what we were doing was the right thing. We started a war we couldn’t finish and now we’re going to pay the ultimate price for it. I only wish I’d known then that all of our time and our work would be for nothing. I not only ruined my own life, but hers as well. I picked at her weaknesses until she submitted to the idea I’d presented to her. I forced her to relive the darkest moments of her life, and the darkest moments of my own, all in the name of… _what?_ I can’t remember if there was ever a point to what we were trying to accomplish anymore. I just know that I dragged us both through the mud and through the proverbial grinder and we came out worse than we were before the decision to overthrow a powerful government agency had even been made. I think we’ll be lucky to make it out of this alive at this rate.

Yeah, I definitely think my father would have some serious words for me if he could see me now. And I would deserve every last one of them.


	2. Rock Bottom

The nightmares were back. Tony had thought for sure that he’d gotten rid of them once and for all with the cocktail of pills he’d _finally_ submitted to taking. But he’d been careless this week, reaching for the scotch instead of the anti-anxiety meds he was supposed to take whenever he felt like he did now. Weary, scared, sick to his stomach; really, it was a wonder they hadn’t just shot him in the head like a rabid dog. It had to be a kinder solution than however many milligrams of chemicals and sugar filler that they’d loaded him up on. He’d been doing so well, too. Almost living a _normal_ life for once. Well, as normal as it could get for Anthony Edward Stark. He still went out to parties, still brought home nameless, faceless women whenever the opportunity presented itself. He spent money at his leisure and showed up for whatever bullshit event he’d been scheduled to appear at. And he still brought out the Iron Man suit whenever necessary. Yeah, things were about as normal as ever.

Except, they weren’t.

There had been something gnawing at the back of his brain for months, a thought that he’d shoved back as many times as he could over the years to prevent it from surfacing. And here it was now, as he sat drenched in sweat with his heart racing in his chest and the taste of aluminum filling his mouth. _Why?_ Why had he chosen to turn to peace? He knew from experience that chaos could be just as fun, if it was planned the right way. So, after Afghanistan, _why_ did he choose to go in the direction that he had? He didn’t even _believe_ in heroes. Yet he’d somehow turned into one over time. Little kids dressed up like Iron Man; teenagers wore the merchandise and random strangers on the street stopped him to thank him for what he was doing. _But why?_

What had he received in return for his good deeds? Aside from a lifetime of mental issues and slews of subpoenas and bills from various cities and countries all over the world demanding payment for damages he’d caused with misfired repulsors and all around recklessness in the suit. Sure, the occasional _thank you_ wasn’t unwelcome, and maybe the fringe benefits of the situation weren’t all that bad, but there had to be _more_.

_Sir, I’m receiving a troubling reading on your current heart rate._

“I’m fine, JARVIS,” Tony muttered, shoving the blankets off so he could get out of the bed. “Why don’t you do me a favor and wake up the workshop?”

_Very well, sir._

“Any messages, JARVIS?” Tony ran his fingers through his hair as he snatched up a pair of sweatpants. Yawning as he wandered out of his bedroom, the brunet made a pit stop at the bar to grab a decanter of scotch and a glass. It was never too early for booze in Tony Stark’s world.

_There is one message, sir. From Miss De Luca. Shall I play it?_

“You know the answer to that, JARVIS.” Rolling his eyes, Tony brought the mouth of the decanter to his lips, absently wondering what the hell the woman could want at this hour. They were currently going through one of their _I fucking hate you_ phases, and he honestly hadn’t expected to hear from her for a while.

“Tony,” Syri’s voice echoed through the room as Tony wandered into the workshop, still drinking straight from the decanter. “They fired me. I missed _one_ evaluation and they _fired_ me. They’re calling it a… indefinite leave of absence, but they’ve already given Brian my office. I don’t know what to do. I could use a bit of company over here, if you’ve got time to spare. I know we’re not on the best terms right now, but…” a heavy sigh rang out and Tony could practically hear her shaking her head. “Never mind. I’ll be at the penthouse if you want to get a hold of me. Still love you, Taplight. Hope you know that.”

The line clicked off and Tony stood in the doorway of the workshop, holding his breath. Letting it out in a harsh puff, he shook his head and downed another mouthful of the booze. “Yeah, princess. I know.”

_Sir, shall I—_

“Don’t call her back.” Tony snapped, moving over to where he had a few pieces of a new suit laid out on one of the tabletops. Setting his scotch and the empty, unnecessary glass down, the brunet cracked his knuckles and chewed the corner of his lip in thought. “JARVIS, playlist four. Blast it for me, buddy.”

X+X+X+X

Syriana couldn’t sleep anymore. If she were to be honest with herself, she hadn’t been able to sleep for a very, very long time. At least, not without the aid of a pill or large amounts of booze. She was tired, but there was no way in hell she was going to succumb to the need to lay down in her bed. She’d only lie there, staring at the ceiling for hours anyway. This thing with S.H.I.E.L.D had been building for a while, and she knew that. She’d expected them to take her off the payroll a lot sooner than they had, but they’d surprisingly put up with her shit. Up until this afternoon, of course. They’d informed her that she was to pack up her office and return home until further notice, all because of one missed evaluation. She’d done so well with showing up when she was supposed to, but ever since she and Tony had called it quits for the umpteenth time, she’d been slacking off horribly. She couldn’t put all of the blame on Tony, of course. After all, it wasn’t like he’d physically stopped her from coming in for the evaluation. No, that had been her own fault. It had completely slipped her mind, just like everything else seemed to these days. This _not sleeping_ thing was going to kill her, she just knew it. That was, if she didn’t kill herself first.

She supposed that she should be grateful that she still had her side projects to pay the mortgage on her place. Entering her little tech toys in the Stark Expo last year had paid off, and she had the joy of knowing it wasn’t even because she and Tony had been hitting the sheets regularly. Hell, Tony hadn’t even been the one to pick her project out of the hundreds of others that had been entered in that particular category. She wasn’t even sure if he’d been there when it was chosen, now that she thought about it.

“Gabriel?” she called out to the seemingly empty penthouse. She’d gone and bought it after the first check from Stark Industries had cleared. She’d needed a change from the cramped, suffocating space of her apartment. “Gabe, c’mon boy.”

Running her slender fingers through her thick hair, Syriana grumbled under her breath and wandered around the penthouse, calling for her dog. He’d been here when she left this morning, bouncing around her heels the way he always did when she poured the kibble into his bowl. She found it strange that he hadn’t greeted her the moment she walked through the door. Then again, he was usually up all night with her these days. It wouldn’t surprise her if he was asleep somewhere and was just ignoring her in favor of staying curled up wherever the hell he was. It wasn’t until she caught hint of the unmistakable smell of an electrical fire that Syriana thought to check her workspace. Swearing under her breath, she ran as fast as her stupid heels would allow across the penthouse and stopped dead when she saw that the door was opened just enough for Gabriel to have slipped through.

Swallowing the urge to be sick, and not willing to accept that there could be something extremely wrong on the other side of the door, Syri took hold of the knob and pulled it open the rest of the way. She only had to take two steps into the room to find exactly what she’d been afraid of. The little black furry body of the only real companion she had left, lay tangled in a mass of wires leading to one of her computers. The cords were chewed up and the exposed wires were still resting on the creature’s tongue. She didn’t even have enough energy to cry as she sank to her knees in the doorway and just stared at the corpse of her pet.

 _What do I do?_ The thought swirled in her head over and over until it consumed her tired brain almost completely. She couldn’t call Steve; he hadn’t taken a call from her since finding out about the affair she and Tony had while they were dating. Michael was all the way across the country in California. _Tony_. Tony wasn’t answering his phone either; she’d already left a message with JARVIS. But who else was there?

Unable to take her eyes off of the scene in front of her, Syri took her phone out of her pocket and muttered a command for it to call Tony. It rang four times before JARVIS finally answered, saying that Mr. Stark was unavailable at the moment and that she could leave a message with him. The brunette wasn’t going to bother. Shutting the phone off, she tossed the phone aside and leaned her head against the wall. Something was wrong with her. Something inside of her head felt like it had snapped, but there was nothing she could really do about it. Looking to the cords that led to the wall, Syri reached out and unplugged them. She had to do something about the body. She couldn’t just leave it here to rot.

Finally managing to get to her feet, Syriana moved mechanically towards the kitchen to retrieve a bag to put Gabriel in so she could bury him. She felt oddly empty as she stumbled over her feet and crashed against a wall, leaning against it for support while her mind started to shut down.

God, what she wouldn’t give for a pair of arms to wrap her up and hold her right now.

X+X+X+X

Two days passed before Tony even _thought_ about Syriana again. Sure, JARVIS had delivered the message that the woman had called and hung up without leaving a message, but that was just Syri. She liked to pretend she wasn’t a needy woman, but the billionaire knew better. She liked a good roll in the sheets just as much as he did, and she could be pretty persistent when she wanted it bad enough. Still, he had expected more phone calls, and maybe even an unannounced appearance at the Tower. It wasn’t until he got the call from one of his employees that Syriana hadn’t turned in the blueprints for a project idea she’d submitted months ago, that Tony even began to worry. No, not _worry_. Tony Stark didn’t worry about a Goddamn thing. He just thought about stuff a lot more than most people did.

“JARVIS, call De Luca for me.” Tony muttered as he changed out of his bathrobe and into a pair of jeans and a teeshirt.

_Sir, the line has been disconnected._

“Disconnected?” Frowning, Tony clicked his tongue. “Try her private line.”

_I’m afraid there is no answer there either, sir. Shall I try her office?_

“Yeah,” shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers, the billionaire looked around for his sunglasses and let his eyes fall on the slew of pill bottles he’d neglected to touch over the last few weeks. His thoughts immediately went to a night from a few years ago when Syri had shown up at the Tower after swallowing half of her own medicine cabinet. She’d sworn to never do anything like that again, and that she would call him first if she was ever that down. Maybe she’d tried. Maybe that phone call had been to ask for his help, and she’d given up because she didn’t want to be a burden. The woman was funny like that, sometimes.

_Sir, there is no answer on that line._

“Fuck,” Tearing his attention away from the bottles, Tony sighed and threw his hands up. “I guess I’m going over to her place.”

_Shall I keep trying, sir?_

“Yeah, sure. Just patch it through to my cell if you happen to get a hold of her, okay buddy?”

 _Will do, sir_.

Nodding at the AI, Tony snatched his keys off of a table, as well as a pack of cigarettes, and headed into the elevator. He would never admit to himself that he was a little anxious about this. Maybe he should have taken one of those Xanax before leaving. Picking at his nails as his thoughts ran rampant, the brunet stepped out of the lift as soon as it hit the ground floor and shouted out when he was nearly mowed down by a fast moving Steve.

“Whoa! Where’s the fire, Rogers?” He snapped, watching the blond turn slightly to look at him.

“Hospital called,” the Super Soldier muttered, pulling his jacket on as he rushed towards the door. “Syriana’s there. It’s apparently urgent.”

“Hospital?” One brow lifted on Tony’s forehead. “Jesus Christ. Wait, why did they call _you_?”

“I’m still on her Emergency list on her phone.” Shrugging, Steve glanced to the door, then back at Tony. “Can I leave?”

“I’ll take you.” Moving to brush past the blond, Tony chewed at his tongue, fumbling with the keys in his pocket. He could feel Steve’s eyes on the back of his head as he led the way to the car, pausing only once to light up a cigarette before climbing in the driver’s seat. Blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth, the brunet looked to the other man and jammed the key into the ignition. “Which hospital?”

“St. Luke’s.” Steve answered, barely remembering to buckle himself in. “I think it’s over on tenth.”

“I know where it is. JARVIS, I need you to map out the fastest route for me, buddy.”

_Of course, sir._

X+X+X+X

“She was brought in two nights ago after she collapsed in the park,” a doctor informed Steve as she led the Super Soldier and Tony down the hallway to Syriana’s room. “She’s been asleep up until a few hours ago. It’s hard to get an idea of what happened, but she’s otherwise been compliant.”

“I’m sorry, but she just _collapsed?_ You ran tests, right? She didn’t overdose on anything, did she?” Tony asked, stepping in between Steve and the doctor, earning himself an odd look from both parties.

“Of course, Mr. Stark. Her tests came up clean. She seems to have just been suffering from exhaustion. The man that brought her in said she’d been digging in the park.”

“What the hell would she be doing _that_ for?” The billionaire muttered, frowning as he glared at the white linoleum beneath his feet. “Rogers, why would she be digging holes?”

“Beats me.” Shrugging, Steve looked back to the doctor. “She’s on medication for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. There’s a chance she missed a dose. She can be a little flighty when it comes to that. Would that have something to do with the possibility of erratic behavior?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know _which_ medications, would you?”

“Prozac,” Tony piped, rubbing at his forehead where a dull ache was starting to throb in his skull. “Zyprexa, Xanax and… God, what was that last one? Started with a _G_ …”

“Gabitril?” The doctor offered, looking a little surprised at the amount of pills the woman was apparently taking.

“Yes! Yes, that. And something to help her sleep. I think it’s the same thing I’m on, the Lunesta.”

“That’s quite a mix,” the woman murmured, writing down the names on her clipboard. “It’s no wonder she’s not making sense.”

“Can we see her?” Steve asked, slipping his hands into his pockets when they’d stopped walking.

The doctor nodded slowly, looking up from what she was scribbling with a frown. “But I’m afraid you can only go in one at a time.”

Steve immediately looked to Tony, who seemed to be too busy staring into the little window in the door leading to Syriana’s room. Clearing his throat, he raised an eyebrow. “Stark?”

“What? Yes. Okay.” The billionaire looked between the two, blinking rapidly. “What was that?”

“I want to see her first.” Steve’s tone suggested that Tony had better not argue with him if he didn’t want to get thrown down the hall. The two worked well enough in the field together, but they still hadn’t settled the silent score between them after the affair had surfaced.

“But you two are fighting.” Tony laughed, shaking his head. “Why would you—”

“They called _me_ , Stark. You just came along for the ride.”

“Excuse me, but I drove you down here, Captain Asshat. I have every right to see her if I want.”

“Gentlemen,” the doctor raised an eyebrow at the two bickering men. “If you’re going to fight about this, do take it outside.”

“There’s nothing to fight about.” Steve muttered, reaching for the door handle. “I’m going in first.”

“I hate you.” Tony snapped, glaring after the blond when he disappeared behind the door. Huffing slightly at the situation, the brunet looked to the doctor still standing nearby, and raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a Gift Shop in this place?”

X+X+X+X

“How is she?” Tony asked when Steve finally came out of the room.

Running a hand through his blond hair, the Super Soldier eyeballed the blue teddybear Tony held and heaved a sigh. “Not good. She seems scrambled. She’s talking in circles and keeps asking about Jesse.”

“Jesse?” The billionaire made a face. “Not that asshole who used to be her partner?”

“Pretty sure that’s the only Jesse I know of who’s ever been in her life.” Shrugging, the blond waved a hand. “You can go ahead and try to talk to her. Maybe she’ll respond better to you.”

“Right.” Getting up from his spot, Tony hesitated a little as he stopped in front of the door. Rubbing a hand over his face, he bit the bullet and yanked the door open to head inside.

Syriana lay looking a bit dazed on her hospital bed, her brown eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. When the door clicked behind Tony, she lifted her head to look at him and frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you recognize me,” Tony smiled faintly, coming over to the bed. “I’ll take that as a good sign.”

“Is that for me?” Syri sat up a little on the bed, blinking slowly. If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d say that she’d been pretty heavily sedated. But the doctor had said they’d only given her an IV since she’d been admitted. She hadn’t been awake long enough for food or anything, and from the looks of it, she probably could have used it.

Looking to the blue bear he held, Tony frowned as though he’d forgotten that he had it at all, and nodded. “Yeah. Uh, here,” Holding the bear out to her, he watched as she took it gingerly, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know it says _It’s a Boy_. They didn’t have any other blue ones down there without that written on them.”

“It’s cute,” Syri smirked, running her fingertips over the soft fur of the toy. “Thank you.”

“What happened, princess?” Tugging a chair over, Tony sat in it and folded his hands together. “Do you remember anything?”

Sagging against the pillows, Syri stayed silent for a few moments, keeping her eyes on the bear in her hands. Did she remember what had happened? Sure. Did she want to talk about it? Not a chance. Steve had tried to get her to talk about it, and he’d seemed genuinely concerned for her, but the brunette just wasn’t ready. So, she shook her head and shrugged a shoulder before she looked back up at Tony. “I was tired.”

“You were apparently digging holes in Central Park.” Smirking faintly, the older man turned to help himself to the pitcher of water at Syri’s bedside, pausing to hold up the cup. “Would you like some of this?”

“No thanks.” Looking to the dirt beneath her fingernails, Syriana couldn’t keep herself from curling her fingers around the plush toy in her hands. Swallowing hard, she fought back the urge to start sobbing, and looked back up at the ceiling. “It’s finally happened, Tony.”

“What has, princess?”

“I’ve got nothing left. It’s all gone now.” Her throat tightened uncomfortably, but she was determined to keep her composure. Squeezing the bear she held, she grit her teeth and set it aside to avoid tearing the head off of it. “I’ve lost my parents, my job, my…”

“Your…?” Tony pressed, both brows raising high on his forehead. He instantly regretted pushing for the answer when Syri pounded her fists against her legs and coughed out an odd sounding sob. “Hey, princess—”

“He’s _dead_. Tony, my baby, my Gabriel…” Syriana curled her legs up to her chest, looking as though she didn’t know quite what to do with herself. “I left the workshop door open. He got in and chewed the cords. God, he was so _cold_ when I put him in the bag… it’s all my fault. Everything… everything is my fault.”

Tony felt like a real sack of shit as he sat in the chair staring at her. Part of him sympathized with the situation; he knew what it was like to literally have _nothing_ left. The other part, the sick bastard side of him that was too immature and selfish to cure, wanted to cheer. There would be no more jealousy on his part when it came to Syriana’s life. And boy, did he envy a lot. Sometimes, that side of him would come out whenever she complained about something that was mediocre in his eyes, and it usually led to them throwing insults and expensive things at each other until one of them got fed up and left. But this was no situation to bring out his inner bastard. He’d watched over the last few years as Syri’s life had literally crumbled to pieces in front of her. Sure, there had been a few events that seemed to patch her up and make her somewhat whole, but she’d been falling apart since the day he’d met her and now she had been reduced to this.

He didn’t know what to do now. He was never good in situations like these. His solution was always to take her into the bedroom and fuck her problems away, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well here. Especially not with the Capsicle standing out in the hall. Licking his dry lips, Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he looked back up at the brunette crying silently on the bed. “I’m sorry,”

Teary brown eyes flicked to look at him, looking tired and just generally not okay. An odd noise came out of Syriana’s throat and she just shrugged and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “What do _you_ have to be sorry about? You didn’t kill my dog, Tony. You didn’t get me fired.”

“I could have called you back.” Tony mumbled, wishing he could get away with smoking a cigarette in here. Maybe he could get Steve to run down to the liquor store just around the corner and have him pick up a few of the shooter bottles of whiskey. “I could have come over to the penthouse.”

“We’re fighting, Tony,” Syri sighed, thumping her head against the pillow. “I wasn’t really expecting you to call me or see me.”

“How long have you been off the meds?” Maybe a change of subject would make him feel a little better about being such a shitty friend to her.

A dark sort of look crossed Syriana’s features as she narrowed her eyes at Tony and snorted at him. “How long have you been off _yours_?”

Right. He deserved that. Rubbing his hands over his face, Tony shrugged his shoulders and smiled tightly. “About two weeks. But to be fair, I’ve _forgotten_ to take them. I didn’t go off intentionally.”

“Neither did I,” Looking away from him again, Syri chose to focus on the brick wall just outside the window.

“Steve said you were talking about Jesse,” Tony said carefully, unsure if this was a safe topic or not. He really wasn’t in the mood to have a water pitcher chucked at his head. “What’s that all about?”

“I wanted him to get out of the room. He was trying to get me to _talk_.” Rolling her eyes, the brunette snuggled against the pillows she rested on, pulling the bear Tony had given her into her arms. “We haven’t talked in months, and all of a sudden he wants to be concerned about me.”

“That’s the Capsicle, for you. I think his good boy nature won’t allow him to be mad at someone when they’re in a bad place.”

“Not like you?”

 _Ouch_. She sure was doling out the zingers today. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for it, but God damn.

“Sorry.” Syri spoke in a considerably kinder tone, looking over at him with a tired look on her face. “That was rude,”

“No, that was honest.” Tony tried to smile and play off like the comment hadn’t stung at all. “I’m a bad person, Syri. You know it, I know it, the whole world knows it.”

“Tony, you’re not a _bad_ person.”

 _If you only knew, princess_. The billionaire did his best not to vocalize the thought as he moved to get to his feet. He didn’t know where he thought he was going, but sitting was starting to make his back hurt. “Do you know when they’re going to release you?”

“Five o’clock.” Glancing up at the round clock that hung on the opposite wall, the brunette pursed her lips and gave the bear in her arms a squeeze. “Wish they’d let me stay longer. I don’t want to go back to the penthouse.”

“You could stay with me for a few days.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tony nearly kicked himself for offering. He really didn’t want to have to babysit the mentally unstable woman if he didn’t have to, but it didn’t seem fair to leave her all alone in that huge place. He knew what it was like to be left alone in an empty house with only his thoughts for company. Besides, he was still concerned about whether or not she’d mix herself another valium and vodka cocktail to ease the pain she was feeling. “But you have to promise to eat something. You’re looking a little thin, De Luca.”

“I eat.” The brunette muttered defensively, hugging the bear tighter. “I’ve got all the time in the world to eat now, anyway. Maybe I’ll just go ahead and get fat.”

“I don’t think you could get fat if you tried, princess.” A genuine smile graced the corner of Tony’s lips, disappearing just as quickly as it had formed. “Do you want to stay with me?”

Fiddling with the toy, Syri let out a soft sigh and nodded. “It’s probably smarter if I do. Not going to lie to you, Taplight. I’m feeling fragile, and I don’t want to be by myself.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll send Happy to your place for clothes and your meds. The security code is still the same, right?”

Nodding slowly, Syri finally looked up at the older man. “Yeah. Still your birthday.”

“You know, you’d think people would figure these things out by now. Your file codes at S.H.I.E.L.D were all in reference to me, your security passcode is my birthday… what else is there? Your pin for your bank account? Is that something that has to do with me too?” Coming back over to the bed, Tony stood next to it, trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his hands. He had the urge to touch her suddenly, but he wasn’t sure if it would be welcome or not.

“No, actually. That one has to do with my Mama.” Shifting on the bed, she looked up at him and smiled slowly. “So, when do we leave?”

“Soon. I’ll, uh, go get your discharge papers figured out, I guess. Or I’ll make Steve do it. I don’t like touching things at hospitals.”

“You don’t like touching anything you’ve never seen before.” Chewing at her bottom lip, Syri yawned lightly and rubbed at the side of her face. “Though, with the incidents that have happened whenever someone’s handed something to you, I’m not too surprised.”

“Right.” Nodding, Tony seemed to fidget in his spot. He _really_ ought to start taking those pills again. He was so restless without them. As the silence stretched between him and the brunette, the older man finally sighed and bowed his head to plant a kiss to the top of hers, giving her shoulder an awkward pat. “I’ll be back, princess. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Funny.” Syri snorted, giving him a smack with the bear. “Go. I want to get out of here. This place is starting to make me sick.”

X+X+X+X

Tony supposed he should have offered to let Syri sleep in the bed with him, but the woman had insisted that the guest room was good enough. He figured it was a better idea, considering the two of them couldn’t even share couch space without putting their hands all over one another. And the last thing De Luca needed right now was sex, even if Tony could have done with a round or two. She just looked exhausted as hell as she’d shuffled through the rooms, pausing every so often to yawn or lean against a wall. Apparently the two days of sleep hadn’t been enough for her. So, after making sure she’d taken the pills she was supposed to, Tony had left her to fall asleep in the bed all the way on the other side of his quarters at the Tower, and settled into his own room for the time being. He really wanted to work on his new suit, but Steve had lectured him about being attentive to the brunette’s needs. Man, had the Super Soldier laid into him, too, telling him to keep an eye on the amount of pills in Syri’s bottles; as if he’d ever had to deal with the little woman overdosing in front of his eyes. Right. Like Tony was going to make _that_ mistake again. He was an asshole, sure, but he wasn’t so fucking evil that he’d want someone he cared about to fucking die.

So, he’d locked all of Syriana’s medication in a special cabinet that JARVIS would monitor for him. He’d give them to her when she was supposed to take them, but there would be no extra Xanax or Lunesta for her. Hell, he’d even put his own pills away to ensure that Syri wouldn’t get into them.

He’d fallen asleep at some point between putting the woman to bed and climbing into his own, and the only reason he’d woken up was because of the loud screaming coming from the other side of the floor. JARVIS was babbling somewhere in the background, talking about heart rates and whatnot and Tony nearly flew out of his bed when he heard his name being shrieked from the guest room. Stumbling blindly through the hallway, still stuck halfway between being asleep and awake, Tony nearly broke the door down trying to get to Syriana on the other side. God, the screaming was louder in here than he thought it’d be, and he snapped to attention when a lithe little body tried to streak past him.

“ _Shit!_ ” Twisting just in time to catch Syri around the waist and stop her from running away, Tony grunted at the elbows that jammed beneath his ribs and the heels that struck his shins. She was asleep, he realized, stuck in a night terror of epic proportions. “JARVIS, what do I do?”

_I would advise waking her, sir._

“ _HOW?_ ”

_Speak to her calmly. Reassure her that everything is all right. Tell her she is safe._

_Right._ Clearing his throat, Tony hugged the woman closer and did his best to keep her from thrashing around any more than she already was. The screaming had ceased, thankfully, but she was still sobbing out in broken sentences and seemed to be grabbing for her stomach.

“Princess,” Tony did his best to keep his voice as level as possible. “It’s me. It’s Tony. You’re all right. I… JARVIS? Am I doing this right?”

 _Perhaps you should try something else, sir. Her heart rate is still 170 beats per minute_.

“Syri,” Tony rested his lips against her ear, wincing when her nails dragged over the back of his wrist. “Please, I promise everything is okay, princess.”

“I’m sorry!” Syri gulped out, as she struggled against Tony’s hold, arching her back in an effort to get herself free. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry!”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, princess. I’m not mad at you.” Giving her a light squeeze, Tony attempted to sit down with the brunette, grunting when she thumped her head against his chin hard enough to bruise. “Sweetheart, please calm down.”

Letting out an odd little grunt, Syri seemed to stiffen in Tony’s arms, her breathing still coming in great heaves of her chest. Tony could feel her heart racing almost violently in her chest, and loosened his hold when she started to relax. Sinking back against the billionaire’s chest, Syri blinked and looked around like she didn’t quite know what was going on. Swallowing, she tried to twist around to look at him, her red face streaked with tears. Her eyes were still wide like she was seeing whatever the hell it had been that scared the wits out of her, and slowly, she seemed to come back to her senses.

“Tony,” her throat was dry from screaming, and her stomach hurt.

“Hey,” the older man felt a mix of relief and nausea wash over him. Somewhere in the chaos, he’d had a panic attack. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, and his lungs burned when he tried to take a deep breath. Jesus Christ, they certainly were one fucked up pair.

_Heart rate is leveling out, sir. Everything seems to be going back to normal. Are you all right, Miss De Luca?_

“Fine,” Syri choked out, letting her gaze drop to the floor. She frowned a bit when she spotted the blood on her hands, and leaned her head against Tony’s. “We’re bleeding.”

“ _We?_ ” Peering over the brunette’s shoulder, the older man frowned when he saw the scratches on his arms that were indeed leaking a bit of blood. But it was the blood leaking from beneath Syri’s night shirt that caught his attention. “Christ,”

Batting Tony’s arms away, Syri lifted the hem of the shirt and heaved a sigh when she saw that she’d scratched through one of the scars on her abdomen. “Fuck,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, princess.” Tony murmured after getting a look at the damage. Letting go of her long enough to stand, the brunet carefully pulled Syri to her feet and guided her out into the main room. “Go sit on the couch.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Syri—”

“Tony, please. Don’t.” Shooting him a look, the brunette snatched up the pack of cigarettes sitting on the counter and moved to head outside. It was raining, she noticed, but that wasn’t going to keep her from going out onto the balcony. “Just bring the kit out here.”

“Fine,” shooting a look in her general direction, Tony disappeared into his room for the first aid kit and joined her a few moments later. Neither one of them spoke as Syri stripped off her shirt so he could get to the wounds on her stomach. Cleaning her up with one of the wet naps that made the younger woman hiss and jerk back from him, Tony held fast to her hips and frowned lightly. “What were you dreaming about?”

“I don’t remember,” Syri answered, shaking her head. “I can never remember.”

“This has happened before?”

“You know it has.” Wiping the rainwater from her face, Syri took a long drag of the cigarette and leaned back against the glass window. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Yeah,” nodding as he closed the kit and got to his feet to steal the cigarette from her, Tony watched the younger woman pull her shirt back on, and gently looped an arm around her waist. “I’m sorry I was so rough with you, princess. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I think I did a decent job of hurting _you_.” Looking to where the spots she’d elbowed him were starting to bruise, Syri brought her eyes up to the reactor in Tony’s chest and reached out to brush the water off the glass. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

“You can’t control these things, Syri. It’s fine. You’re not the only one having nightmares, you know.”

“You too, huh?”

Nodding slowly, Tony handed the cigarette back and turned his head away as he yawned. For once, he was actually tired. Maybe it was from having to struggle with the little woman, or maybe he was just exhausted in general. He’d been thinking about way too much lately, and his brain really needed a rest. Raising a brow when Syri leaned against him and rested her cheek to his bare chest, he sighed and rubbed his hand up and down her back. “Come on, princess. Let’s try to get some sleep.”

The brunette grunted in compliance, flicking the cigarette over the side of the balcony before allowing herself to be led back inside to Tony’s bedroom. Exchanging her bloodied teeshirt with the one he’d discarded before going to bed, Syri crawled onto the bed, curling up on her usual side with her pillow held tight in her arms. Tony studied her for a moment when he got in after her, unsure if he ought to say anything at all. They were just sharing the bed, after all. This didn’t mean they were back to being how they were before the recent fight. But she looked miserable as she lay there with her eyes fixed on the window overlooking the city, and he couldn’t help himself as he moved over on the bed and rested against her back. Syri didn’t fight him. In fact, she barely did more than breathe when he got himself settled snugly against her. Murmuring a half-hearted _goodnight_ , Tony hesitated before kissing the brunette’s shoulder, resting his head on his own pillow with another sigh.


	3. Tension

Over the next week, Tony and Syri seemed to tiptoe around each other. They both kept up with their meds and went their own ways during the day. And at night, they had very little to say to each other when they crawled into the bed to sleep. At first, Tony wasn’t sure if Syri was comfortable staying with him while they were supposed to still be at each other’s throats. But when he’d returned from a board meeting to find her dismantling some kind of computer in his workshop –thankfully, nothing that belonged to him- using all of his tools like she owned the place, he figured that maybe she just needed something to occupy her time now that she didn’t have a job. So, he’d set her up with a new StarkPad and her own selection of halo-screens so that she could code and plan things to her heart’s content. It was the least he could do, really. Though, he _had_ toyed with the idea of buying her a new dog. Everybody he’d asked had advised against that, though. She didn’t need a replacement for Gabriel, and she probably wouldn’t accept one either. But the woman could always use new Tech to play with.

One afternoon, on one of the rare days that Tony really didn’t have _anything_ to do, the billionaire rolled out of bed much later than he’d intended, and found the brunette sitting curled up on top of the bar counter with her StarkPad in her lap, and an unlit cigarette in her hand. She appeared to be having some kind of conversation with his AI, so he kept himself hidden behind a corner in order to listen in.

“JARVIS?”

_Yes, Miss De Luca?_

“Can you clear the firewall around the S.H.I.E.L.D mainframe for me?” Tapping the filtered end of the cigarette on the counter, the brunette squinted at the tablet in front of her and frowned. “I can’t seem to access it from this thing.”

_I can try Miss De Luca, but I cannot promise results. S.H.I.E.L.D keeps—_

“Trust me, JARVIS, I know how the security is. I built most of that system.” Rolling her eyes, Syri popped the cigarette into her mouth and switched to tapping her nails against the counter. “Go through Sector Orange and clear out anything labeled _Manchester_. You should be able to worm me in through there.”

_This will take a few minutes, but I believe I can do it._

“Good. Thank you.” Hopping off of the counter, Syri grabbed the little glass of whiskey Tony hadn’t seen sitting beside her, and downed it. She was heading out to the balcony to light her cigarette when she suddenly stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “You gonna get mad at me for using JARVIS?”

Surprised that she’d even seen him, Tony came out from his hiding spot and shook his head. “I guess not. But what exactly are you hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D’s systems for?”

“They have data that belongs to me,” finally lighting the cigarette, Syri headed outside with the older man in tow. “I want it back.”

“And you think you can do that?”

“I know I can.” Snorting, the brunette glanced at the tablet in her hands and took a long drag of the cigarette before offering it to Tony. “I can even get around the virus program I had to design specifically to keep you and JARVIS out.”

“You told me about that,” declining the cigarette, Tony eyed her for a moment. “What sort of data are we talking about?”

“Things that I don’t need Brian taking credit for. They didn’t exactly let me clean everything out when they canned me.” Making a face, Syri rolled her eyes dramatically. “He’s intermediate at best. They’re going to have one hell of a time replacing me, I tell you.”

Well, someone seemed to be feeling better than she had a few days ago. Then again, Tony knew that the woman was capable of shutting off her emotions just as easily as he was. This could all be a front, for all he knew. Folding his arms over his chest, he smirked at her and raised an eyebrow. “You can be so cocky sometimes, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking. You are the _king_ of cocky, Taplight.” Licking her lips, Syri gave the tablet another impatient look. “JARVIS,”

_I seem to have hit a wall, Miss De Luca._

“Christ,” Putting the cigarette out, Syri looked to Tony and raised an eyebrow. “Can I use your laptop? Five minutes, that’s all I need.”

“You can try—”

“Better yet,” the younger woman cut him off, walking around him to rush back inside. “Where did Happy put _mine?_ ”

“You’ve had a laptop this entire time?” Tony followed her back into the Tower, frowning lightly.

“No. I asked him politely to retrieve mine from the penthouse this morning. I just thought your Tech was a little more efficient than mine, is all.” Shrugging, she smirked and grabbed the little blue laptop case, opening it to set the computer up on the bar counter. Tony stepped close, watching as Syri tapped the keys at a fast pace, her dark eyes fixed on the screen in front of her. Neither one of them spoke for a while, just stood there watching the code flash across the screen until Syriana gave an almost excited little squeal. “I’m in! Okay, I’ll have about twenty minutes to do this… do you have an empty flash drive? What I’m downloading is essentially a virus that I don’t have a cure for yet, and I don’t want to infect anything.”

Blinking at her sudden burst of energy, Tony nodded and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah. I think… check that drawer. There should be a ton of them. They’re all empty. I keep the loaded ones in a safer place.”

“Thanks,” Opening the drawer, Syri sifted through the selection of drives until she found the right size, and plugged it into her computer. After a few more seconds of frantic typing, she slammed her finger down on the _Enter_ key and snorted. “Motherfuckers. That will teach you to fire _me_.”

Tony couldn’t help staring at the younger woman in front of him, grinning like a kid who’d just pulled off a successful prank. Was this really the woman that had fallen to pieces the other day? Jesus Christ, whatever the hell her pills did for her, they were working. He had to admit, seeing her like this was a bit of a relief, not to mention a turn on. Then again, he’d always found her at her most attractive whenever she was working.

“JARVIS, one last favor?”

_Yes, Miss De Luca?_

“Can you monitor the sector I’m draining? Make sure nobody tries to cut me off?”

_I will do what I can._

“That’s all I can ask. Thank you.” Heaving a sigh, Syri moved away from the laptop to refresh her glass of whiskey, pausing with her hand halfway to the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue to look at Tony over her shoulder. “…you don’t mind, right?”

“I told you to make yourself at home.” The older man said, waving his hand dismissively. “By all means, drink my booze.”

Smiling faintly, the brunette poured a small amount of the amber liquid into the glass, putting the bottle back with a soft sigh. Taking a sip, she leaned against the counter with one arm wrapped over her chest and let her eyes drift back to Tony. “I didn’t wake you, did I? You were sleeping so soundly earlier that I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“No.” The older man shook his head, coming around the counter to stand near her. After a moment or two of silence, he squinted a bit and looked her over. “Don’t hit me for this, but you haven’t been taking anything you shouldn’t, right?”

“Tony, you _know_ me. When have I ever touched any kind of drug that isn’t something prescribed to me?” Pausing, she made a face. “Okay, the occasional joint. But I usually get those from _you_.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. You just seem… _peppy_ , is all.” Shrugging, Tony reached to take the glass from her, sipping at the whiskey. “You got into the coffee, didn’t you?”

“Five cups. I can’t function without it.” Grinning, Syri seemed to perk up at the sound of a chime coming from her computer, and nearly knocked Tony over trying to get at the laptop. The moment her eyes focused on the screen, her happy mood seemed to bleed into anger, and Tony had to take a step back to avoid getting hit with whatever she might throw. “Fuck! Dammit! It wasn’t even done _downloading!_ How… _JARVIS?_ ”

“Whoa, hey,” putting a hand on Syri’s shoulder, Tony tried to hand the whiskey back to her. “Don’t blame JARVIS for whatever happened, princess.”

“I’m not blaming him.” Taking the glass, the brunette downed it in one swallow and set it down hard on the counter. “I was going to ask him to patch me back in, but they’ve blocked him out, too. _Fuck_.” Tapping her fingers against the counter, Syri took a few deep breaths before a slow smirk curled the corner of her lips. “Okay assholes, if this is how you want to play… _fine_.”

“What are you doing?” Tony moved to stand behind the younger woman again, frowning at the screen.

“Reversing the download. It won’t do much, but it could easily take down a few security sectors.” Chewing at the tip of her tongue, Syri hit a few more keys and then stopped. “JARVIS, do me a favor and disconnect yourself from my system. I don’t want to flood you with the virus.”

_Disconnecting… completed._

“Good boy,” she murmured under her breath before hitting the last key. Then, she quickly shut the system down and unplugged the flash drive from her laptop, shoving it into her case with the computer. Finally letting out a huffy little breath, Syri turned back to Tony and hopped up to sit on the counter. “All right. I guess I’m done for the day.”

“That’s it?” Tony asked, looking from the computer, back to the brunette.

“Mhm.” Smiling some, Syri reached out and lightly ran a fingertip over the faded bruise on Tony’s chin. “Do you have any plans?”

“Not really, no. I was thinking about working, but since you commandeered my AI…”

“I gave him back.”

“He’s answering to you.” Tony snorted, picking up the glass to add a little more whiskey to it for himself. “He usually only listens to me and Pepper.”

“You told him to give me access to a few things, didn’t you?” Swinging her feet restlessly, Syri raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t overstep the command boundaries.”

“I guess not.” Shrugging, Tony reached out and put his hand on Syri’s leg to stop the movement. “Hold still. You’re bouncing off the walls.”

“I can’t help it.” Jumping down from the counter, the younger woman snatched up the pack of cigarettes sitting nearby and headed for the balcony once more. “I get like this when I go back on the meds, sometimes.”

“I see this.” Following her, Tony sighed and took one of the cigarettes when she offered the pack to him.

“If you really want to work today, I can find something to do. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good workout. I could go downstairs and use the gym or something.” Pausing a moment, the brunette wrinkled her nose. “No, bad idea. Steve’s probably down there.”

“He _does_ tend to be the only one in there most of the time.” Lighting up, Tony leaned against one of the windows and took another drink of the whiskey in his hand. “I can work tomorrow, I guess. Feeling a little lazy, to tell you the truth.”

“Well then, would you like to—” Syri paused when her phone started to go off in her pocket. Raising a brow, she pulled it out and swore. “It’s Fury.”

Tony stared, watching as the younger woman looked up at him. Letting out a low whistle, he handed over the glass of whiskey and waited for her to drain it before she answered her phone.

“De Luca?” Syri turned away from Tony, frowning hard. “Yes Director… no. No, I was— _sir_ , please. I was just trying to retrieve some personal information. The system cut me off and reversed—yes. Yes, okay. Okay, thank you Director Fury. I’ll be in shortly. Mhm. Thanks.”

The billionaire didn’t say a word as Syri hung up her phone, only raising his eyebrows when the brunette ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. “…what’s wrong?”

“He wants me to come in if I want my data. Says that whatever I let loose on the system is screwing up a lot of things and Brian doesn’t know how to stop it.” Folding her arms over her chest, she swore under her breath and stomped a foot. “He said I have to fix the problem or he’s going to take legal action.”

“Jesus.” Was all the older man could say.

“I have an hour to get down there before he sends a car.” Clenching her jaw, Syri grumbled and moved to head inside. “I guess I ought to change my damn clothes, then. Go ahead and do whatever work you were planning on doing, Taplight. I’ll be there for a while, I think.”

“Wait a minute,” reaching out, Tony put a hand on her arm to stop her. “I can take you down there.”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea. If Fury found out that I was working from your place, he’d probably pull you into his office.”

“I can handle Fury.” Tony flicked his cigarette away. “I don’t want you to get triggered while you’re down there. It would be better for us both if I just went with you, all right?”

Sighing heavily, Syri relented and nodded. “Yeah, all right. Just… give me a few minutes to change.”

“I see nothing wrong with what you have on.”

“You may not, but I’m not about to walk into S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters with my bare legs out for everyone to see. Especially not that pig Brian.” Glancing down at her legs, Syri made a face and then patted Tony’s chest. “Five minutes. I swear. You should probably put something else on as well.”

“Right. Pajama pants are not professional.” Smirking some, the older brunet looped an arm around Syri’s shoulders and turned to lead her back into the Tower. “So, we’ll go to S.H.I.E.L.D and deal with Eyeball, and then… lunch?”

“If he doesn’t try to revoke my access to certain things, sure. I can’t promise that I’ll be in great shape if they completely cut me out.” Chewing her bottom lip, the brunette sighed. “I don’t like this, Tony. I’ve basically been leveled down to the coffee girl that doesn’t have to show up. I don’t think I’m ever going to get paid again, and I don’t know how I’m going to keep up with the payments on the penthouse at this rate. Or the cost for my projects.”

“Money is no object, princess.” Tony said flatly, guiding the woman to the bedroom. “The penthouse is in one of my buildings, isn’t it? Consider it a gift. Birthday gift. Your birthday is coming up, right?”

“It’s in December, Tony. You know that.”

“Okay, combination birthday and Christmas gift, then.” Shrugging, he dropped his arm from around her shoulders and glanced over his shoulder at her as he went to retrieve something reasonably professional to wear from the closet. “As for work, you’ve still got the stuff you’re designing for me. Don’t forget that.”

“I know, I know,” rubbing her hands over her face, Syri went over to her suitcase and dug through it for a pair of black slacks and a blouse to match. “But I’ve been working with them for almost twelve years. I’m not used to any of this. Even when I work from home, I’m not lazing about and doing nothing.”

Tony pretended not to watch as Syriana stripped down and donned the rather conservative looking outfit. He grinned when she caught him staring, and turned away long enough to change into his own clothes. Clearing his throat as he straightened the cuffs on his shirt, the older man frowned at the way his hair looked in the mirror and did what he could to flatten it. “I don’t know what you’re worried about. You should get used to the leisurely lifestyle.”

“What, like you?” Smirking, Syri dug out a pair of heels from the bottom of the bag, grumbling as she sat down to strap them on. “I hate to break it to you, Taplight, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to living like this. I still wake up disoriented in that penthouse sometimes.”

“You wanted your own company, didn’t you?”

“I am not going to allow you to set me up so I can start a company, Tony.” Shooting him a look, she folded her arms over her chest and tipped her head slightly when the billionaire bent to choose a pair of shoes from the closet. “I would much rather build a name for myself, not have someone hand it over to me.”

“Have it your way, princess.” Smirking at her in the mirror, Tony came over to sit and put his shoes on, checking his watch after he was through. Looking over at the younger woman, he reached over to brush a few pieces of hair out of her eyes, and raised an eyebrow. “We’ve got a little time…”

“ _No_.” Getting up from her spot, Syri laughed and headed for the door. “I want to get in, get my stuff, and leave. I’d rather not give Fury any more reason to be pissed off at me. I’m pretty sure I’m already pushing it with the stunt I pulled earlier.”

“Fuck Fury. And you know what? Fuck S.H.I.E.L.D. What good do they do, anyway? Do you even know about half of what they do there?”

“Sometimes, Tony, it’s not always about the _good_ , okay? It’s about what’s _best_ for the world.”

“Do you know what’s best for the world?” Tony asked, getting up to grab his car keys and follow the woman out of the room. “Does anybody?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions that I don’t know the answers to, Taplight.” Shooting the brunet a look over her shoulder, Syri frowned. “What brought this on?”

“Nothing. Never mind. Grab your laptop, and let’s boogie.”

Eyeing her companion, Syri nodded slowly and walked over to grab her laptop from the counter. Following Tony to the elevator, she got in and stood beside him, blowing out a heavy breath. “It’s not going to be easy to resist the urge to strangle Brian.”

“Go ahead and strangle him, princess. I’ll even hold him down for you.”

X+X+X+X

“Agent De Luca,” Nick Fury looked anything but happy when Syri strolled into HQ with Tony at her side. Then again, she really couldn’t remember a time when the man ever looked _happy_ about anything. “Mr. Stark.”

“Director,” Syri gave a polite nod and did her best not to look as nervous as she felt. It had hardly been a week, but she was already worried about losing the job _permanently_.

“I don’t know what you thought you were trying to do, De Luca, but hacking into our system without permission—”

“You’re keeping her own data from her.” Tony interrupted, ignoring the wide-eyed look Syri shot him. “I’d say she has every right to try and get it back. After all, if your new Head of the Systems and Programming department can’t even deflect a tiny virus, don’t you think you ought to let the person who coded it continue to work at least a _little_ bit during this… _vacation_ you’ve put her on?”

“Why are you here, Stark?” Fury narrowed his eye at the billionaire. “I don’t remember calling you in.”

“I’m here because I want to be.” Tony shrugged, folding his arms behind his back. “And I drove De Luca down here. I’ve got nothing else to take up my time today, so I just thought—”

“If this is some kind of ploy to bully me into giving you your job back, De Luca, you’re going to be in for a rude awakening.”

“No! No, sir. I swear to God, I’m just here to get what I need.” Looking to Tony, then back to Fury, Syriana sighed. “Give me a minute with him, please.”

“Very well,” nodding once, Fury turned to head down the hallway. “You may go up to your old office when you’re ready. _Without Stark_.”

“Understood, sir.” Waiting until the man was far enough away, Syri turned and gave Tony’s arm a hard smack. “You _asshole!_ What do you think you’re doing?”

“Ow, hey,” rubbing his arm where Syri had struck him, Tony frowned at her. “Take it easy.  I’m just giving the Eyeball something to think about.”

“Please, Tony, if you care about me at all, _don’t_ try to help me right now.” The brunette begged, running a hand through her hair. “Just… go for a walk. Or something. This won’t take very long, and I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“You’re doing it,” Tony made a face, glancing down the hallway to where Fury stood waiting. “You’re letting him get to you. Syri, you aren’t under his command anymore. That man pretty much fired you. You—”

“Tony,” the younger woman shot him a pleading look. “You don’t understand. This job has been my _life_ for twelve years. It doesn’t matter if Fury isn’t technically my boss anymore, he still holds some _extremely_ incriminating shit over my head. Things I _really_ don’t want out in the open, okay?”

“Tell me about them.” The look on Tony’s face was neutral, but he was genuinely curious on the inside. He’d thought that Syri had stopped keeping secrets from him. “Get them out in the open. You’ll feel better.”

Shaking her head, the brunette readjusted the strap of her laptop case and started to walk away. “Go walk around, Taplight. Find somewhere nice for lunch. Let me deal with my own demons, okay?”

“Fine, princess,” Tony shrugged, pivoting on his heel. “Whatever you want.”

“Tony…” Syri deflated a little as she watched the older man walk straight out the door that they’d come in through. Swearing under her breath, she shook her head and stomped towards the stairs leading to where her office was. Before she even set foot in the room, she felt the eyes of the _new_ Head of the department on her. Turning slightly, she nearly wrinkled her nose in disgust when she found Brian standing just a foot or so away with a slimy smile on his face.

“Nice job, De Luca.” He chuckled, following her into the office. “Flooding the system with a virus. What were you trying to do? Because I don’t think Director Fury is impressed with your little display of anarchy.”

“Get out of my face, Brian.” Syri muttered back, clearing a few papers from the desk so she could set up her laptop.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, Director Fury asked me to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t take more than you’re supposed to.” Smirking faintly, the redhead grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and brought it over to the desk. “See what it’s come to, De Luca? Your carelessness has caused you to become _suspect_ around here. Pity. I really do think you could have pulled through all of your mental sickness bullshit.”

Grinding her teeth in an effort to keep from slamming her laptop into the man’s jaw, Syri booted up the computer and scooted her chair as close to it as she could, trying like hell to shield her screen from Brian. Bunching her shoulders as she leaned over the keyboard and tapped the keys furiously, Syri became aware of the brush of fingers on her back. A sick chill ran through her when she felt Brian fiddling with the ends of her ponytail, and she took one hand off of the keyboard to slip it into one of the pockets of the laptop case.

“You know, the place seems so dull without you here, De Luca,” Brian said quietly, moving his chair closer as he dared to bring his fingertips up to the backside of her ear. “It’s a real shame that we had to lose such a… _beautiful_ mind like yours.”

Barely able to keep herself from vomiting on her computer, Syri rooted around the pocket until she found what she was looking for. Straightening her back, she took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut when Brian began rolling her earlobe between his fingers. Jerking her head away, she glared at him. “Knock it off. Let me work.”

“Oh, come on,” Brian laughed, choosing to stroke his fingers down her neck again. “Everybody knows you and Stark aren’t a _thing_ anymore. And you don’t work here anymore. Besides, a little office _fling_ might do you some good—”

Syri didn’t give the man enough time to finish his sentence as she spun in the chair and pointed what looked like a pen at him. For a moment, the redhead just stared at her strangely, and then started to laugh again.

“What are you going to do? Write on me?”

Sneering at him, the brunette pressed a little button on the side of the pen and watched as a small hook shot out of the end with an electrified wire attached to it. Pressing down on a second button, she gave the perverted man a good jolt with the miniaturized taser. When Brian had dropped to the ground, Syri turned the pen off and yanked the wire to dislodge the hook. Snorting, she tucked the hook and wire back into the barrel of the pen and stuck it back into her laptop case. Well, that took care of _that_ problem, but she pretty was sure Fury would send someone else in next. She knew he was probably watching the security footage from the micro-camera mounted just above the cheap Jackson Pollack reproduction hanging on the other side of the office.

Shooting the camera a look, Syri turned back to her computer to continue working on retrieving her data.

X+X+X+X

“Agent De Luca,” Fury’s voice rang out just as Syri was reaching for the door so she could leave. “A word, please,”

Heaving a sigh, the brunette folded her arms over her chest and turned around to face the taller man, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Director?”

“I’m going to have to ask you to surrender your access pass.” Holding a hand out, Fury shot her a look, almost like he felt sorry that he had to do this. “You may keep the badge, but until further notice—”

“Wait a minute,” Syri blinked rapidly, shaking her head a little. “What do you want my pass for?”

“Listen,” dropping his hand, Fury propped his fists on his waist and fixed the woman with a dark look. “I understand that you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, De Luca. Your mental state has been at a steady decline for the last three years. What I’m doing is not to punish you. I’m simply trying to give your mind time to _heal_.”

“What does _that_ have to do with my access pass?” The brunette swallowed hard, wishing that Tony had stuck around. She could use the extra spine right now.

“I can’t allow you to keep the pass. Think of it as the way a police force would do things. An officer who has been relieved of his duties, temporary or otherwise, is made to surrender both his badge and his gun—”

“I know how it works, Director Fury.” Doing her best to ignore the way that her hands were starting to shake, Syri dug into her laptop case for her wallet, taking out the card Fury was asking for and half throwing it at him. “Take it. May I go, _sir_?”

Raising a brow, Fury bent to pick the card up and nodded. “You may,”

“Thanks.” Finally turning to open the door, Syri stormed out just as the tears started to fall. There was something about being made to hand over the pass that made all of this seem a lot more real to her. It didn’t matter what Fury’s reasons were for giving her the _time off_ ; the sheer fact that she just didn’t know what to do with herself anymore without this job just bothered her so much. Part of her wanted to run back inside and scream at Fury, let him know exactly what this was doing to her. Without that job, she was going to go insane. It didn’t matter that the field work she’d done had caused her to partially lose her mind. The desk job, the coding and building up the systems kept her frantic mind almost too busy to think about all of the bad things. Without that, what the hell was she going to do?

Ignoring the stares of the people she was stomping past, Syri dug around in her pocket for her phone, trying desperately to keep from having a panic attack here on the street as she fumbled with the gadget. Blinking the tears from her eyes, she ducked down an alley and dialed Tony’s number with shaky fingers, trying to get herself under control while the line rang.

“You done, princess?” Tony sounded cheery on the other end, and Syri had to swallow hard to get her voice to sound a little less choked than it did.

“Yeah. Uh…” she paused to run her hand beneath her eyes, thankful she hadn’t worn any makeup today. “Did… did you decide where we should eat?”

“I did…” Tony drawled, his voice taking on a concerned tone. “Syriana,”

“Hm?” Fumbling with the laptop case again, Syri pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Taking a deep drag, the brunette peered down the street and rubbed at her eyes again. “Where are we eating?”

“You sound like you’re crying, Syri.”

“Allergies. That office is dusty as hell.” Sniffling some for effect, Syri nearly pulled the phone away from her as a sob bubbled up in her throat and choked her. “ _Tony_ ,”

“Where are you?” She could hear movement on the other end of the line. Tony was muttering something to someone else, swearing at them when a crash was heard. “Syriana, _where?_ ”

“About half a block down from the front entrance of the building.” The brunette sank against the brick building she’d been standing near, sucking in a sharp breath and letting it out in a whine. “ _Fuck_ ,”

“Which direction, princess?”

“I…” shrugging a little, Syri turned her head to peer back down the street once more. “I don’t know. I… I think I took a left. Tony, I don’t have my Goddamn Xanax…”

“Sweetheart, I need you to go back to the building.”

“No! No, I can’t! Tony, I can’t go back there!”

“Syriana, listen to me. Just stand near the damn building so I can find you, all right? I know you’re having a hard time right now, but I need you to—” The billionaire stopped speaking suddenly, and Syri nearly started shouting for him to come back on the line. He was her lifeline in this screwed up situation, and to have him cut himself off like that was bringing on even more panic. Then, a set of arms went around her and lifted her from her spot on the ground, causing her to scream out.

“Take it easy!” Tony hissed when the brunette tried to strike him upside the head. “It’s me, princess. It’s me.”

Letting go of her cigarette and her cell phone, Syri wrapped her arms tight around the older man’s neck, curling her fingers tight in his shirt as she buried her face against his neck. Her legs wound around his waist and Tony grunted a little as he lost his balance and threw a hand out to catch himself on the wall. Muttering under his breath, he turned and rested against the brick, rubbing a hand up and down the brunette’s back, sighing heavily.

“What happened?” He murmured, trying to ignore the fact that the sharp ends of Syri’s high-heels were digging into the backs of his thighs.

“He… made me give my… pass back.” The petite woman whined, dropping her forehead against Tony’s shoulder. “Oh _God_ , Tony,”

“Christ,” shaking his head, the billionaire hitched Syri higher up in his arms and bent at the knee to pick up her cell phone before carrying her further down the alleyway. The car was parked just on the other side of the buildings and he wanted to get her somewhere a little quieter so she could calm down. Part of him wanted to walk right back into the S.H.I.E.L.D building and knock Fury one right in his good eye, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t do any good. He couldn’t go charging into a place filled with armed agents while he was vulnerable. Maybe he’d go back to the Tower and get the suit… Shaking that thought out of his head, Tony unlocked the car and carefully set Syri back on her feet, nudging her so she’d crawl into the passenger seat while he climbed in on the other side.

“Where are we going?” The brunette asked when she’d found enough breath to speak.

“Back to the Tower,” he grumbled in response, flipping someone off when they honked at him as he pulled away from the curb.

“No.” Shaking her head, the younger woman sat up straighter in her seat and reached to open the glove box. She knew Tony kept a bottle of Valium in here, and she was determined to get at least two of the damn things into her system. Grabbing the bottle, she twisted the cap off and tipped a few of the pills into her palm. “No, I want to go eat.”

“Syriana,” glancing over when he heard the rattling of a bottle, Tony swore at himself for forgetting to put those in the cabinet at home, and shook his head. “You need to—”

“I need to _eat_.” Popping the pills into her mouth, Syri chucked the bottle back into the glove compartment and swallowed them dry. “You can’t… you can’t hide me away every time I have an episode. It isn’t healthy.”

“Neither is eating Valium that isn’t prescribed to you.” He snapped back, shooting her a look before swerving to avoid a collision with a cab. “ _Learn to drive, asshole!_ ”

“Just take me to the Goddamn restaurant. I’ll be _fine_.”

“Syri, I swear to God,”

“ _Tony_ ,” turning in her seat, the brunette glared at her companion and moved to light up another cigarette. “I tased Brian, and I’m not afraid to do the same to you. Pretty sure that bit of metal in your chest will conduct quite a bit of electricity and will shock the living hell out of you. _Don’t fucking test me right now_.”

Tony fell silent in the driver’s seat, honestly a little unnerved by the woman’s sudden mood swing. Then again, Syriana had always been like this. She didn’t _enjoy_ being treated like she was some kind of delicate flower. There were times when she’d allow it, sure, but obviously now was not one of them. Letting out a heavy breath, he licked his lips and nodded. “All right. Fine. Where to?”

X+X+X+X

 “Did you really tase Brian?” Tony asked as he reached to pour himself another glass of wine and refill Syri’s glass as well.

“I did,” the younger woman nodded, looking almost docile as she sat across from him, sedated nicely from the pills she’d taken in the car. “He touched me, so I dropped him.”

“He _touched_ you?” There was something almost possessive in the tone of Tony’s voice. “Remind me to snap his neck the next time I go in there.”

“I’m thinking that neither of us are going to be allowed in there for a while.” Swirling the wine in her glass, the brunette eyeballed it before drinking it down in one go. “Fury seemed pretty upset that I brought you with me in the first place.”

“You didn’t bring me anywhere. I went with you.”

“Whatever.” Sighing some, Syri relaxed in her seat and reached for her fork, idly tapping it against the side of the plate in an almost contemplative manner. Finally, she stabbed it through a piece of chicken on the plate and popped it in her mouth. “This place is nice. Not too fancy, not too dumpy. Definitely not somewhere I’d expect you to bring me.”

“You’ve always told me that you hated the expensive places.” Tony shrugged, watching the brunette pour yet another glass of wine. “Save some for the other alcoholics at the table, will you?”

“You’re driving,” Syri reminded him, smirking faintly.  “I can have as much as I want.”

“I’d prefer it if you remained reasonably coherent, thanks. You’re slurring badly enough as it is.”

“I thought you liked me better when I was drunk?” Syri grinned, uncrossing her legs beneath the table and reaching one foot out to lightly drag her toes along Tony’s calf. “You always said I was more fun.”

Tony paused in his chewing when he felt the touch from the woman under the table, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. A low grunt left him when she took a dainty sip of her wine and slipped her foot higher. Shaking his head at her, he went back to his food. “You’re trouble, De Luca.”

“You enjoy it, Stark.” She snickered back, shifting in her seat so she could trail her toes along the inside of his thigh.

“If there wasn’t a table in the way right now, I swear to God.”

“What would you do to me if there wasn’t a table in between us, Tony?” Syri raised an eyebrow, watching the way the older man seemed to tense slightly when she finally let her foot come to a rest against his crotch. She knew teasing him in public wasn’t the best idea in the world, and it probably wasn’t wise to do it while she was so loaded either, but honestly, she couldn’t help herself. She wanted a distraction, and if her memory served her well enough, Tony had always been good at providing those.

“You know exactly what I would do, De Luca.”

“ _Tell me_ ,”

Looking up from his food, the billionaire eyed the woman in front of him and sighed. Setting his fork down, he reached to pluck her foot from his lap, giving the ball of it a good rub with his thumb. “I think I’d take you right here on the floor. In front of the Maître d’ and everyone else.”

“You ought to.” Syri smirked, biting her bottom lip when he stroked his thumb along the arch of her foot and made her squirm in her seat.

“You’re loaded,” the older man snorted, giving her pinky toe a pinch. “And while the offer is tempting, I think I’m going to have to decline.”

An odd look crossed Syriana’s face as she stared at Tony from the other side of the table. Letting out a huff, she practically yanked her foot out of his hands and shoved it back into the shoe it had slipped out of previously. Draining her wine glass, she narrowed her eyes and pushed her chair back, standing up a little too quickly. “Give me the keys.”

“You’re not taking my car,” Tony frowned, wondering just what the hell it was he’d done to piss her off now.

“I’m not going to take your car, Taplight.” Syri all but slammed her chair back into its place, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m going to sit and wait for you to take me back to the Tower.”

Raising a brow, the billionaire pulled his keys from his pocket and aimed the little lock device out the window, pressing a button. “Car’s unlocked. Go right ahead, princess.”

Sticking up her middle finger at him, Syri turned and walked out, growling at a waitress who nearly knocked her over on her way to the door. Tony could only sit and watch her go, shaking his head as he picked up his fork and scooted his food around on the plate. He wasn’t very hungry anymore. Waving to a waiter to ask for the check, Tony patted himself down for his wallet, secretly glad he’d removed the bottle of Valium from the glove compartment before they’d come into the restaurant. The last thing he needed was for Syri to top off that Merlot with more drugs.

Once the check was paid for and a tip left on the table, Tony gave a silent nod of thanks to the man who’d served them, and headed out to the car. He could see Syri already curled up in the front seat and realized she must’ve passed out in the short time it had taken him to get things settled. Running a hand through his hair, he grumbled under his breath and got into the driver’s seat to take them both home.

X+X+X+X

Tony had no idea what time it was when he finally emerged from the workshop to check up on Syri. The woman had been dead asleep since they’d gotten back, and he’d asked JARVIS to keep an eye on her vitals while he worked. Strolling into the bedroom while wiping the grease from his hands, Tony paused when he found the bed empty and the little woman nowhere to be found.

“JARVIS,” he called out, frowning some at the empty room. “Locate De Luca for me, will you?”

_Certainly, sir. It appears that she’s in the restroom._

“She throwing up?”

_No, sir. I do believe she’s attempting to get into the medicine cabinet._

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” throwing the rag down, Tony stalked over to the bathroom door and yanked it open, honestly shocked that the brunette hadn’t attempted to lock it. He watched as she jumped away from the counter and put a hand on her chest, still frowning at her when she shook her head at him.

“Why do you do that?” Syri muttered, turning back to try and pry the cabinet open. “You’re going to give someone a heart attack, Stark.”

“What are you doing?” Leaning on the doorframe, Tony nearly smirked as he watched her struggle to open the little door. He knew very well that the thing could only be opened with a passcode on the halo-screen he’d programmed into the glass, and watching the woman struggle was proving to be amusing.

“I need aspirin.” Syri huffed, glaring at him in the reflection of the mirror. “JARVIS, will you open this for me?”

_I’m afraid I’ll need the passcode, Miss De Luca._

“Passcode?” Looking at Tony over her shoulder, she snorted and folded her arms over her chest. “ _Twelve, seven, nineteen eighty five._ ”

 _Passcode incorrect_.

“What?”

_That passcode is incorrect._

“Tony!” Turning on her heel, Syri grit her teeth and pointed back at the medicine cabinet. “ _Please_ , I just want the Goddamn aspirin!”

“JARVIS, unlock the cabinet for the lady.” Tony said finally, not willing to endure one of Syri’s temper tantrums.

 _As you wish, sir_.

The lock on the cabinet clicked and Syri turned back to open the door and retrieve the bottle of aspirin. Making sure to take only two, she set them back on the shelf and ducked her head to take a drink of water from the tap to swallow them down. Wiping her mouth, she sighed softly and rubbed at her forehead. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” nodding, Tony walked a little further into the room and placed a tentative hand on her lower back. “Feeling like shit?”

“I feel like shit that’s been run over, actually.” Resting her elbows on the counter, the brunette turned slightly to look at him. “Where’ve you been?”

“Workshop.” Tony grabbed for a washcloth and ran it beneath the tap before dabbing at the younger woman’s cheeks with it. “You don’t look so good, princess. You’re grey, but your cheeks are flushed.”

“Valium does that to me.” Shrugging, Syri stood up straighter and took the cloth from him to set it in the sink. “The wine probably just made it worse.”

“Mhm. And you did that to yourself… _why?_ ”

Shooting him a look, Syri snorted and shook her head, moving to brush past him and head back into the bedroom to change out of her uncomfortable work clothes. “Don’t ask why I’m self destructive, Tony. You already know the answer to that.”

“Then I guess it would be hypocritical of me to mention that you should probably stop, right?” Smirking as he followed her, Tony leaned against the doorway and watched shamelessly as the brunette stripped her clothes off in the middle of the room.

“Extremely,” looking back at him, Syri chewed at her bottom lip and raised an eyebrow. “You know, the offer I made at the restaurant still stands. If you want it.”

“Not gonna happen, princess.” Smiling tightly, Tony walked over and planted a kiss to her forehead, careful to avoid touching any part of her bared skin. “You look like hell and I think we should wait.”

“I don’t want to wait, Tony. I think I made that pretty clear.”

“You want a distraction, Syri, and I’m not going to offer it to you.” Watching the brunette as she eyed him, Tony took a step back and cleared his throat. “When you can show me that you’re not coming on to me just to take your mind off of everything, then I’ll consider it. Until then, how about I build you a vibrator?”

“I don’t want a vibrator, Tony. A vibrator doesn’t talk to you. It can’t hold you when it’s all over. I want the real deal.”

“And in any other situation, I might give it to you.” Sighing, Tony ran a hand through his hair and tried to pretend that her little _offer_ wasn’t looking good to him right now. “You had a rough day. You’ve had a rough _week_ —”

“If you don’t want to fuck me, Tony, just say so, all right? Quit your Goddamn tiptoeing and just come out with it. _Jesus_.” Shaking her head, the younger woman strode over to where her bag of clothes was and took out a pair of shorts and a teeshirt. “I figured we could make the best of this situation, but apparently not. Whatever. Go back to playing with your toys in the workshop. I’m going to go see if the gym is free.”

“You stay away from Rogers.” The words were out before Tony could stop them, and he couldn’t hide the bitter look on his face when Syri turned to stare at him. Swallowing, he straightened his back and narrowed his eyes. “I mean it. Don’t go running to Golden Boy just because I won’t give in to your shit.”

“You are out of your mind, aren’t you?” Syri laughed, tugging her clothes on hastily. “Why the hell would I want to fuck Steve? He never wanted to fuck me in the first place! That’s how I ended up with _you!_ ”

“You sure as hell weren’t complaining then!”

“Yeah? Well neither were _you!_ You never turned me down, Stark, that’s why I kept coming back. It’s not my fault that I fell in love with you. It’s not my fault that I can’t control… whatever it was that made you leave me!”

“ _You_ left _me_ , Syriana,” Tony’s voice raised in volume, but surprisingly, the woman in front of him didn’t flinch. “You decided that you didn’t want to _be_ part of my lifestyle anymore, and you _left_. So don’t hand me that shit. I loved you just as much as you claimed to love me!”

“ _I never claimed anything!_ ” The brunette’s voice cracked a little as it rose in pitch, and she threw her hands up in frustration. “I loved you, Tony. I _still_ love you. But you know, I’m starting to think that the two of us are a little too fucked up to know what _love_ really means anymore.”

“You think I’m refusing you because I don’t care about you?” Tony knit his brows together, staring at the younger woman in disbelief. “Syri, I don’t want to fuck you while you’re like this. It’s never ended well in the past, so I don’t understand why the hell it would be fine _now_.”

“Don’t you get it? I don’t want your Goddamn _dick_ , Tony! None of this is about the fucking sex, all right? I just…” Syri’s shoulders sagged as she started to back towards the door, shaking her head. “I just want the closeness. I need that. But… fine. Whatever. You stay in here, and I’ll go stay in the guest room again. Jesus _Christ_ ,”

Tony honestly didn’t know what to do as he watched Syriana snatch up her things and walk out of the room. He couldn’t help feeling like a little bit of an asshole. The woman wasn’t begging for pleasure, she wanted attention. Something he wasn’t all that great at giving to begin with. Rubbing his hands over his face, the billionaire turned and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at the ceiling with a groan. “How do I get myself into this shit, JARVIS? Better yet, how do I get _out?_ ”

_I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you, sir. I’m terribly sorry._

“It’s all right, buddy,” Tony sighed, laying back on the bed. “Pretty sure I don’t really _want_ an answer, anyway.”

 


	4. Explosions

The stench of gunpowder and dirt was thick in the air, blended with something coppery that he could literally taste on his tongue. It was cold and there was unrecognizable shouting as he was jerked around and manhandled by unseen persons. God, and the pain; the excruciating ache in his chest that seemed to spread throughout his entire body was nearly unbearable. He wanted to scream, but there was no one he could call for. He was alone. He’d been alone since the explosion. If only he’d gotten into Rhodey’s humvee, he wouldn’t be in this position. Whatever happened now, he was sure he wasn’t going to make it out alive. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he could hear JARVIS calling to him. That was absurd; the AI was back at the house in Malibu. Even in his wildest dreams, there was no way in hell JARVIS could physically be wherever he was.

He jerked at the touch of a set of hands on his face; petite and chilly, they pressed against his cheeks and jolted him lightly. His eyes snapped open and he winced at the bright lights of the workshop, blinking a few times as a familiar brunette came into focus. She looked worried. Funny, she hadn’t spoken to him in almost three days now. What the hell did she have to be concerned about?

“Tony?” Syri said tentatively, pressing a palm to the older man’s forehead. “Are you all right?”

“What kind of question is that?” Boy, he felt queasy. “Of course I’m fine.”

Letting her hands fall away, the brunette bit her tongue and took a few steps back, grunting when she bumped into one of the worktables. “…you were screaming.”

“Pardon me?” Tony looked up, raising a brow at Syri as he reached for a bottle of water on the table in front of him.

Clearing her throat, the younger woman did her best not to look so nervous, and shrugged. “You were screaming. You can ask JARVIS. He… woke me up to wake you.”

Now that his vision was a bit more focused, Tony could see that the woman was dressed in the usual teeshirt and underwear she wore to bed, and that her frazzled state probably had more to do with being woken up in such a manner, than his apparent nightmare. Running a hand through his hair, the billionaire sighed and sank back in his seat. “Seems like the roles have reversed, haven’t they princess?”

“Seems that way.” Fidgeting in her spot as she fought a yawn, Syri played with her hands and kept her eyes on her bare feet. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about.” Picking up the piece of motherboard he’d been working with before he’d fallen asleep, Tony glanced around and frowned. “Dum-E, did you take the soldering iron again?”

“I moved it,” Syri said softly, reaching to pick the tool up and hand it to him. “You were moving around a lot. I didn’t want you to burn yourself.”

“Thanks.” Taking the tool as it was given back to him, Tony turned back to his work and prodded at a few things, pretending as though he didn’t feel Syriana’s eyes staring at the back of his head.

After a few more minutes of fidgeting, Syri finally shook her head and started to walk out of the workshop. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Syri,” Tony paused a moment and heaved a sigh. “Thank you,”

“For what?”

“Waking me up,” The billionaire glanced at her over his shoulder and gave a tight smile. “JARVIS tries his best, but he can only do so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Tony,” Syri folded her hands in front of her, rocking awkwardly on her heels. Chewing at her lip, she slowly headed back over to him, bringing her hands up to rest them on Tony’s shoulders. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to his temple and sighed quietly. “I hate you sometimes, but I don’t want you to suffer.”

“I wasn’t suffering.” Tony mumbled back, trying to focus on the motherboard again. He didn’t want to get into this with her; not now. “It was a nightmare. I have them all the time.”

Syriana could only sigh again. There was no use fighting with him about this. He was far more stubborn than she was about the subject, and it was way too late to bother trying to get him to listen. So, the brunette settled for kissing the side of his head again before she squeezed his shoulders and gently pushed away. “Night, Tony. You have about four sandwiches left in the fridge. Just so you know.”

“Thanks, princess,” the older man heaved a sigh, watching her go out of the corner of his eye. When the door to the workshop had shut again, he sank back in his seat and rubbed a hand over his face. He needed a cigarette, and some damn coffee. Rolling out of the chair, Tony gave Dum-E an absent pat as he walked past the bot to grab the pack of smokes off of the counter next to the coffee pot. He grumbled a little when he realized that he’d have to actually put water and grounds into the thing, and rolled his eyes. He really needed to take a little time out to make another helper bot to do this for him. It wasn’t that he was _lazy_ , he just preferred to save the _hands on_ labor for more important things.

Popping a cigarette between his lips, he lit it up and fiddled with the coffee maker, swearing up a storm when he dropped the filter and nearly knocked the glass pot from the hotplate. He was getting ready to just say _fuck it_ , when a smaller set of hands brushed him out of the way. Turning to find that Syri had come back into the shop, he watched as she fiddled with the contraption until it was ready to brew. Pressing the button, she looked up at Tony silently and wandered over to one of the empty work tables, clearing her throat a little.

“JARVIS?”

_Yes, Miss De Luca?_

“Can you bring up that three-dimensional rendering program for me? I’d like to work on Project R.” Pausing, the younger woman glanced back at Tony. “Can I…?”

“JARVIS, give the girl access to whatever she needs. You know the limits.” Smiling faintly, Tony shot a look at the coffee pot, then the fridge in the corner. “I’ll go get more food. You want some pants? It gets cold down here.”

“I work better in uncomfortable environments, Tony,” Syri smirked, picking through a slew of holographic files in front of her until she found the one she wanted. “You know that.”

“Right.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know.” Syri said absently as she dragged her fingertips over a few blue lines hovering in front of her, then flicked them away. Curling her legs under her in the seat, she completely avoided all eye contact with Tony and tipped her head as she studied her work. “I used to feel so embarrassed whenever I’d wake you with one of my nightmares when we first started seeing each other. But now… now it’s a regular thing, you know? As much as we fight, we take care of each other too.”

“You like mayonnaise on your sandwiches, right?” Tony asked, stalking towards the door. It didn’t matter how she worded things, he was _not_ going to discuss this with her right now. He was still reeling from the dream, still trying to recover from the ache in his chest that always seemed to linger for hours after one of the nightmares. He understood her need to be heard, sure, but just didn’t want to listen. “Turkey and cheddar okay?”

“I’m not hungry.” Syri murmured, her dark eyes staying focused on her work. Reaching out to swirl her fingers through the image of the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters in front of her, the brunette scowled and pushed the chair away from the table. “JARVIS,”

_Yes, Miss De Luca?_

“Blow it up.” Snapping her fingers, the petite woman grabbed the pack of cigarettes Tony had left on the counter, looking back to the hologram. “I want to know what it’ll look like.”

_I’m afraid I do not understand the command._

“She wants a simulated explosion,” Tony clarified, giving Syri a strange look. “Execute Dynamite, buddy.”

 _Very well, sir_.

Both Syri and Tony watched as the image of S.H.I.E.L.D slowly started to glow orange in several sections before coming completely enveloped in a large cloud of ash and ember. With her dark eyes focused on the simulation, Syri lit up her cigarette and shook her head.

“Needs more _boom_.” She muttered to herself before grabbing an empty coffee mug to use as an ashtray and reclaiming her chair. “Clean it up for me, JARVIS. We’ll just keep working on the code.”

“What _is_ Project R, Syri?” Tony asked, coming over to ash his cigarette.

“Nothing. Just something to keep my mind busy.” The younger woman answered, furiously tapping her fingers over the halo-keyboard.

“Are you planning on blowing up S.H.I.E.L.D? Because I have to say, as ballsy as it is, it’s also extremely stupid.”

“I’m not going to blow up S.H.I.E.L.D, Tony.” Rolling her eyes, Syri sighed. “Weren’t you going to make sandwiches or something?”

“Talk to me about this project first.” Folding his arms over his chest, Tony leaned against the edge of the table. When Syri continued to ignore him, the older man shook his head. “JARVIS, lock it up.”

_Yes sir._

Syri seemed to snap out of it when she realized that everything she was typing wasn’t showing up on the screen. Clenching her jaw, she swiveled in the chair and took a long drag of her cigarette, glaring up at Tony. “Unlock it.”

“It’s my tech. If you want to work on some secret project to overthrow S.H.I.E.L.D, use your own computer.” Shrugging, Tony stared right back at her. “I’m tired of you avoiding the questions, De Luca. You could at least give me footnotes on what you’re working on.”

“It’s none of your business.” Shaking her head, the brunette moved to get up and growled when Tony took hold of her arm. “Let go, Stark.”

“Talk to me. You never know, maybe I could help.”

“You have two seconds, Taplight.” Stubbing her cigarette out in the mug, Syri gave Tony a dark look and reached to try and pry his fingers off of her arm, letting out a gasp when he grabbed her hand. “ _Tony_.”

“You’re shutting me out, De Luca. You’re using _my_ stuff, here. That makes this my business.” Narrowing his eyes, the brunet grunted when Syri kicked his shin with a bare foot. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“ _Fine._ ” Standing up on her toes, the younger woman lunged her head forward to smack it hard against his chin. Yanking away from Tony when he loosened his grip out of shock, she shoved her hands against his chest and turned to leave, shouting out when the billionaire threw his arms around her waist to stop her. “ _GET OFF!_ ”

“I don’t understand why you’re fighting, Syri.” Tony grunted when she wedged an elbow against his ribs, and squeezed her tighter. “Why can’t we just talk about this?”

Letting out another yell, Syri bent forward and used all of her strength to toss Tony over her shoulders. Jumping away when his back hit the hard floor of the workshop, she brushed the hair out of her eyes and put both of her fists up. _Apparently_ the man had forgotten the fact that she’d been trained in self defense and light hand to hand combat just like every S.H.I.E.L.D agent who’d ever walked through the doors of HQ. Tony certainly looked shocked to be on the floor as he tried to regain his breath and sit up.

“Come on,” Syri hissed, looking a little ridiculous as she stood there ready to fist fight in nothing but her underwear. “You and me. Nothing but fists. Let’s go, Stark.”

“I don’t hit women,” Tony muttered as he got to his feet and rubbed the back of his head. “Jesus Christ, princess. What is _with_ you?”

“You want to get physical about this, then come on. Put your morals away for five minutes and _bring it_ , Tony.” Snorting slightly, the brunette shook her head.

“You’re insane.” Pointing at the younger woman, Tony ran a hand through is hair. “You don’t want to talk about this project, _fine_. But I’m deleting it off of _my_ hard drive. JARVIS,”

“ _Don’t you dare_ ,” lowering her hands, Syri shot the older man a dark look. “You scrap even one line of my code and I’ll take a baseball bat to every major computer you have in this place.”

“I will throw your little ass off the balcony if you even _think_ about it.” Tony knew that threatening Syriana probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but he was past being smart about the situation. She was threatening to destroy his own work; of course his response was going to be extreme.

“You’d be doing me a _favor_.” Swallowing hard, Syri shook her head at him and moved to walk out of the workshop. “JARVIS, put everything on file onto my drive. Anything that doesn’t fit, well… scrap it.”

_Sir?_

“No.” Smirking faintly, Tony strode over to the console and tapped a few keys to unlock the system and root through the file Syri had been working with. “I want to see what she’s— _HEY!_ ” Tony shouted out when Syri grabbed hold of him and, in a surprising burst of strength, yanked him away from the table and tossed him into another one. When he regained his wits, he found the woman standing there with tears streaking down her face and her hands clenched at her sides. Jesus Christ, he hadn’t thought it would be a big deal to peek.

“Don’t,” Syri’s voice was hoarse and thick as she stepped forward and started to reach for Tony again. “ _Don’t you dare screw this up for me!_ ”

“All right, you know what?” Tony, against his better judgment, reached out and grasped Syri’s wrists tight enough to keep a good hold on her without bruising her. “We’re going back upstairs and you are taking your Xanax.”

 _Sir, I would advise against using excessive force_ …

“It’s not excessive, JARVIS, _trust me_.” Shaking his head, the brunet started to haul Syri towards the door when the woman hooked a foot around one of his ankles and tripped him. When he hit the floor, he felt her jump on top of him and was just barely able to stop her from punching him in the face. Trying to gain a little leverage, Tony managed to turn them both over so she was pinned beneath him, swearing and thrashing around to try and get him to move. “ _Syriana_. _Stop this_.”

Letting out a harsh breath, Syri finally seemed to relax when she realized that she wasn’t going to be allowed up. The tears kept coming, however, and she coughed out the occasional whimper. When she’d gone into a full blown sobbing fit, Tony leaned up some, bracing a hand on the floor while the other gently grasped her chin.

“Princess?” He raised an eyebrow, noting that the wild look in her eye was gone. Whatever had come over her, had finally passed.

“I want my life back,” Syri choked out, brushing his hand away to cover her face with her palms. “Oh _God_ , I just want my life back.”

“Tell me about it,” sighing, Tony sat up carefully and scrubbed his fingers through his hair.

“I’m losing my mind, Tony. I’m not okay… that… job was the one thing keeping everything balanced. I’m going to kill myself if I have to deal with this any longer.” Shifting away from him so she could sit up, the brunette sank against the side of the wall and pounded a frustrated fist against the floor. “ _Fuck_ , I am… so sorry.”

Looking over at the younger woman, the billionaire blinked. He hadn’t meant for her to _literally_ tell him about it, but now that she had, he was feeling a little more concerned than he was already.

“Project R… is a pipe dream.” Curling her legs against her chest, Syri wrapped her arms around her knees and pressed her face to her knees. “I don’t have the means to make it happen, and even if I did, I could never get away with it. There’s too much at risk. It’s a suicide mission I’ve made for myself that I’ll never complete.”

Getting to his feet to get the pack of cigarettes that had fallen from the table during their little scuffle, Tony snatched a bottle of scotch to go with it and came back to sit beside Syri. Handing over the smokes, he opened the bottle and took a drink before trading her for the pack. “Why would you plan something like that?”

“What? A mission I can’t complete?” Sighing, Syri lit up the cigarette and thumped her head against the wall. “I told you, it was to keep my brain busy. I never intended to try and put it into motion.”

“What is it lacking?”

“Fire power, and more strength and guts than I have.”

“And what is the desired outcome of this plan, Syri?”

“I want to out S.H.I.E.L.D for the organization that they truly are.” Taking the bottle of scotch from Tony, the younger woman swallowed down a few shots and set it aside. Rubbing at her forehead, she grumbled when her fingertips brushed the bruise forming where she’d smacked it against Tony’s chin. “I’m harboring twelve years worth of secrets, Tony, including some things about myself that I’m not so proud of.”

“Are these the things you said Fury was holding over your head?”

Nodding slowly, Syri took a deep breath and moved to rest her head on the older man’s shoulder. She looked up when he put his arm around her, shifting to settle a bit more fully against his side.

“What are they?”

“I can’t talk about them.” Ashing her cigarette on the floor, Syri passed it to Tony. “I want to, but I just _can’t_.”

“The way you’re talking makes me think that S.H.I.E.L.D isn’t about _protecting_ the world the way they say they are.” Frowning lightly, Tony shifted to look at Syri and tipped his head. “Which, in a way, makes sense…”

“Tony, please, don’t read into it. Not now. It’s late, I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. My brain…” heaving a sigh, Syri grabbed the bottle of scotch and started to take another drink when Tony took it back and set it aside. Instead of fighting him for it, the brunette just sank against his side and closed her eyes. “I’m really losing it, Taplight. It’s not like it was before, where I could control my rage and my panic attacks. I’m having to force myself to stay standing, so to speak. I _should_ talk to someone. But…”

“But what, princess?” Handing back the cigarette, Tony brushed hair away from Syri’s reddening face, smiling faintly when she leaned into his fingertips.

“Nobody else understands.” Shrugging, she finally opened her eyes to look at him and tried not to start crying again. “If I told anybody else about this, they’d put me away.”

“Syri,” Tony heaved a sigh, finding it hard to believe that he was about to say the following words. “Maybe you _should_ talk to someone else. I can only do so much, princess. And it mostly involves keeping you from hurting yourself, which you’re coming dangerously close to doing.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve been destroying myself for a long time now.” The older man let out a bitter laugh. “And as much as I hate saying it, you’re still a kid. You have time to fix all of this, and I know you _want_ to.” Smirking, Tony gave her chin a pinch and sighed again. “There’s only room for one Tony Stark in this world, sweetheart, and I’m not ready to give up the throne just yet.”

“I’m not trying to become you, Tony. You know that.”

“Of course I know that. It was a joke.”

“Besides, I think I’m way past the point of becoming _you_. If anything, you should be worried about becoming _me_.”

“I don’t think I’d complain about being a thirty-year old brainiac, princess.” Laughing lightly, Tony wound his arm around Syri’s shoulders again and leaned in to kiss the bruise on her forehead. “Jesus Christ, just saying your age makes me feel old.”

“You’re not _old_ , Tony,” pinching the cigarette out between her fingers, Syri set the filter aside and slipped her arms around the billionaire. Moving around again, she scooted herself into his lap and nestled her head in the crook of his neck.

“Glad you don’t think so.”

“Stop.” Lifting her head, the brunette frowned at him. “You know your age has never made a damn difference to me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, readjusting her in his lap for his own comfort. “I know.”

“I love you for you, Tony. Not your tech, not your money, _you_.” Bringing one hand up, Syri rested it against Tony’s cheek, sweeping her thumb over the spot where she’d headbutted him earlier. She smiled when he scrunched his nose like he was trying to make light of her words. Typical Tony, always getting so uncomfortable when she played the _feelings_ card on him like that. Without another word, Syri leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the billionaire’s lips, not surprised in the least when he tensed. It had been a long time since they’d been even remotely affectionate with each other. The tiny kisses to cheeks and foreheads were chaste at best, but this was always scary for them both.

Parting her lips lightly, the brunette sighed when Tony took the invitation for what it was and pressed closer, his hands coming up to cup the back of her head and hold her in place as he deepened the kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Syri let out a low groan as she tentatively swept her tongue along the inside of his mouth. She’d missed the taste of him and the feel of having him in her arms. This _living together without being together_ thing had been killing her, and while she wasn’t expecting everything to be patched up in one go, it was nice to have a little piece of him back. Pulling back a little to look at him, Syri let out a soft gasp when Tony’s hands fell from the back of her head to her hips, and pulled her closer.

He stared at her for a few moments, as if contemplating his next move. Part of him wanted to pull away completely and walk away now before he did something he might regret. But Christ, he’d missed this. He’d never tell her about the women that he’d had in his bed since the split –he figured he didn’t need to; the girl was pretty good at figuring that stuff out for herself. But it just wasn’t the same as having someone he _cared_ about. Those girls were nobody to him, and at one time, Syriana had nearly been everything. They’d had the closest thing to a stable relationship as they could get, regardless of the fighting and the fact that the whole mess started out as an affair. He loved her, and he knew she loved him.

“Tony?” Syri’s voice was quiet and uncertain as she ran her fingers around the neck of his shirt and tilted her head at him curiously.

“Quiet,” the older man muttered, leaning in to steal another kiss from her. Bringing his hand back up to cradle her head, Tony turned and rolled her beneath him again, laughing against her lips when she complained about the floor being cold. He mumbled something about how it would warm up in a minute, and dragged his free hand down her side, pawing at her hips and slipping his fingers beneath the waist of her panties. Beneath him, the brunette began tugging at his shirt to get him to take it off, which he did after one particularly persistent yank. Looking back down at the younger woman when the shirt had been tossed aside, he found her staring at the reactor in his chest the way she always did. She claimed that the light mesmerized her, and always refused whenever he offered to screw her in a position that would keep her from seeing it. That was another thing about Syri that he liked; she didn’t treat the reactor as something hideous to be covered up.

He smiled faintly when she traced her fingertips over the glass, then brought her hands up to cup his face, bringing him in for another hot kiss. Making quick work of getting the rest of the brunette’s clothes off, and doing his best not to laugh when she shouted about the temperature of the floor again, Tony did away with his own pants and paused just before pressing himself into her. He wanted to make sure this was something she wanted, not because she needed a distraction, but because she needed _him_. He took the little wriggle of her hips and the soft whine as a sign to continue, and took her slowly, closing his eyes against the sensation of finally being inside of her again. His pace started out slow and easy, but as the younger woman’s moans and sighs became louder and higher in pitch, he picked it up until he was forced to brace a hand on the floor near her shoulder to keep her from scooting across the floor with the movement.

Syri kept her legs wrapped tight around Tony’s hips, pushing her pelvis up from the floor to meet his thrusts while dragging her nails through his hair. Whenever he bowed his head to bite or kiss at her neck, the younger woman let out little mewls of approval and whispered quiet, breathless words of encouragement. It didn’t take long for either of them to reach their peak, both becoming a little more vocal and hurried with their movements. As Tony was grunting and growling out his release above her, Syri bit her bottom lip hard and struggled to go over with him, giving a frustrated little groan. Quieting her with a sloppy kiss, Tony slowed his pace, but continued to rut into her roughly until he felt her tense up and scratch her nails down his back. Finally slowing to a stop, the billionaire buried his face against Syri’s neck and panted. Running her fingers through Tony’s sweat soaked hair, Syri panted as well, squeezing her eyes shut as she lolled her head against the cold floor.

“God,” she mumbled, turning to nuzzle and gently kiss Tony’s ear. “Tony… _cold_.”

Smirking lightly, the older brunet kissed Syri’s collarbone and sighed. “We’ll get up in a few. Basking.”

“Okay…” Nodding, Syri just rested her head against his and continued to play with Tony’s thick hair.

 _Sir?_ JARVIS’s voice startled the two on the floor, making them both jump and swear.

“JARVIS?” Tony picked his head up and glared at the empty air around them, a little irritated that the post-coital moment had been ruined.

_Shall I remove Miss De Luca’s files from the data base, sir?_

“Jesus Christ,” shaking his head, the brunet grumbled and looked back to Syri. “Well, princess?”

“Keep them where they are, JARVIS.” Syri smirked, running a fingertip along Tony’s jaw. “We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

_Very well—_

“Mute,” Tony mumbled, resting his head against Syri’s shoulder. “I suppose we should be glad that Happy didn’t walk in this time, huh?”

“Or Rhodey,” Syri snickered, kissing his forehead. “Or Pepper.”

“Right.” Finally heaving a sigh, Tony pushed himself up on his arms and looked down at the brunette with a smirk. “My bed or yours, gorgeous?”

“Yours. That guest bed is about as comfortable as a brick with a memory foam top.”

X+X+X+X

When Tony woke up later that afternoon, he found himself alone and confused in the bed. He remembered bringing Syri in here, and rolling around in the sheets for a little while until they’d fallen asleep, but at no point could he recall her getting out of bed for anything. Figuring she might be out on a run or whatever it was she did when he was asleep, the brunet rolled out of bed and yawned wide.

“JARVIS?”

_Good afternoon, sir. Miss De Luca has asked me to leave you a message. Shall I play it for you now?_

“Go right ahead, buddy.” Getting up from the bed, Tony staggered to the bathroom, pausing long enough to take a look at himself in the mirror. The little woman had done a pretty good job of roughing him up last night; there was a bruise on his chin that flared nearly halfway down his neck, and smaller ones all up and down his back. Of course, there were the scratch marks as well. Those, he didn’t mind so much.

“Tony,” Syri sounded pretty chipper for someone who’d probably gotten up earlier than him. “I’ll be out for most of the day. I need a little time to clear my head, and I apologize if this gets in the way of anything you may have planned. Last night was a real wake up call, you know? And I think I should maybe try to get things figured out before I end up screwing things up for us again. I’ll be home later this evening. …love you, Taplight.”

Tony sighed as the message ended, reaching in to the shower to turn the taps on. If he were going to be honest, he’d expected that. He wasn’t going to be upset over it; he never really was. Syriana had more commitment problems than _he_ did at times. Just as long as she actually came back to the Tower tonight, he wasn’t going to be too concerned. Washing up quickly, the billionaire stepped out of the shower just in time to hear JARVIS tell him that there was a phone call about to be patched through.

“Let a man get a towel on, will you?” He muttered back, grabbing his bathrobe before picking up his cell phone. “Stark,”

“Mr. Stark,” Fury’s extremely unhappy voice sounded through the receiver and Tony instantly wondered what the hell he’d done wrong now. “You better not be busy.”

“I’m on vacation right now, actually.” The billionaire rolled his eyes and went to his closet for a change of clothes. “What do you want?”

“We’ve had an explosion at one of our facilities in New Jersey. I need you to come out here and identify just what sort of explosive we’re dealing with here.”

“Did you not hear me say I’m on _vacation?_ ” Tony just barely kept the _Eyeball_ from escaping his lips.

“Do you really think that I give a shit, Stark? This is important, God dammit.”

“Don’t you have a bomb squad or something? Ask them to help.” Rolling his eyes as he pulled a fresh pair of underwear on, Tony glanced out of one of the windows to see a cloud of smoke billowing just beyond the border of New Jersey and New York. An almost absurd thought ran through his head and he shook it out before it could fully form.

“Stark, I am asking you as _nicely_ as possible.” Fury sounded like he was close to yelling now. “Get your ass out here and tell me what turned this building into a pile of rubble!”

“Talk to Banner. He’s the chemist. I stopped working with explosives.” Hanging up his phone, Tony shut it off. He knew Fury would probably continue to attempt to reach him, but he just wasn’t in the mood to play _Good Guy_ today. “JARVIS, redirect any phone calls to the voicemail line. Only alert me if De Luca calls, or the company. Understood?”

_As you wish, sir._

“I’ll be in the shop.” Heading to the refrigerator, Tony smirked faintly when he found a stack of sandwiches sitting on one of the shelves with a sticky note stuck to the plastic they were wrapped in. Nothing was written on the little slip of paper, but Syriana had left a single crimson lip-print on it. Unwrapping the top one, Tony crammed it into his mouth and shut the refrigerator door before heading into the workshop.

X+X+X+X

As the hours ticked by and Tony lost track of time, he seemed to forget all about the phone call from Fury. There hadn’t been any others following it, so he assumed that the Director had found someone else to do the dirty work for him. Oddly enough, Syriana hadn’t called either, but he hadn’t really expected her to. When that woman wanted to disappear off the radar, she did a pretty damn good job of it. He was in the middle of reattaching a flight stabilizer to his newest suit design when he heard the door to the workshop open. Lifting his head, he set aside the wrench he was working with and raised an eyebrow at the sight of Syriana strolling into the room in a sleek, short hemmed dress. Letting out a low whistle when she walked straight up to him, Tony shook his head and swiveled the chair so she could take a seat in his lap.

“And where did you get _that?_ ” He asked, plucking at the black material.

“Bought it on my way home, actually. Felt like spoiling myself with some of the money that’s been sitting in my account for the last few years.” Smiling, Syri leaned in to steal a quick kiss and tipped her head. “How do you feel about going out to dinner tonight? My treat, for once.”

Raising an eyebrow, Tony blinked and laughed lightly. Looking back to the table where he’d been working, he let out a sigh and shrugged a shoulder. “I guess we could do that. I need some time to get cleaned up, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure,” nodding, Syri slipped out of Tony’s lap, pausing as she reached for her purse. “…did Director Fury call you this afternoon?”

“He did,” Tony waved a dismissive hand. “He asked me to come and check out some explosion or something for him. Why? Did he call you too?”

“I got a message from him, yes. My phone was off for most of the day.” Shrugging, the younger woman fiddled with a bit of her hair. “I’m sorry for just leaving this morning, by the way. I felt the need to get out for a little while. We’ve been spending so much time in the Tower lately, you know? I needed to breathe.”

“That’s perfectly fine with me, princess. You’re not shackled to me, after all.” Looking her over when she bent over one of the tables to check something on the StarkPad he’d given her, Tony smirked. “Where’d you go?”

“Hm?” Tapping a few things on the screen, the brunette barely spared him a glance.

“Where did you—”

“The cemetery.” Straightening herself, Syri smoothed her hands over the front of her dress and smiled weakly. “Had to go visit my parents, you know? After that, I just sorta walked around and went window shopping. Before you ask, no. I did not walk home in these heels. I called Happy to pick me up. I hope that’s okay.”

“After last year’s little overdose fiasco, I think Hogan is willing to take you wherever you need to go. It’s fine with me.” Shrugging again, Tony sighed and finally set aside the rag he’d been using to wipe down his hands. “All right. Just give me fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll stay down here. I have a few tweaks to make to a program I was working on last week.” Syriana smiled at Tony and watched as he walked out of the workshop. As soon as she knew he was gone, the brunette sat down in one of the chairs and pulled her laptop out of its case. Turning it on, she plugged it into the StarkPad and began furiously typing away on the keyboard. She only had a few minutes to do this if she didn’t want to get caught. Muttering a few choice curse words under her breath, she finally saved the file she’d been fussing with and jumped a mile in the air when she felt the tap of a mechanical arm against her shoulder. “DUM-E! Jesus Christ,”

The bot opened and closed the finger-like extensions at the end of its arm and beeped at her in an almost cheerful manner. Smiling tightly, Syri shook her head and gave the bot a pat. “I don’t need any help, thank you.”

Giving another beep and a few random whirrs, Dum-E scooted away, leaving Syri to snicker and shake her head. Sighing, she started to close her computer when she spotted an error in the code and quickly set about fixing it. Squinting as she checked for more errors, Syri ran her fingers through her hair and looked around the room. “JARVIS?”

_Yes, Miss De Luca?_

“I need you to import data onto a device for me. Do you think you could do that?”

_Of course, Miss De Luca._

“All right.” Digging into her purse, Syri found the little scanner she was looking for and dug a little deeper for a S.H.I.E.L.D access pass that certainly didn’t belong to her. Plugging a few things in to the USB port in front of her, she set the card in the scanner and brought up a holo-keyboard. “I need the information from this card to be scanned and routed to the device in port B as quickly as possible.”

_May I ask what this data is for, Miss De Luca?_

“It’s part of Project R, JARVIS.”

“You know, you still haven’t told me what that is.” Tony’s voice startled the brunette, causing her to jump away from the console and nearly knock her laptop to the ground. Raising a brow, he smirked. “Jumpy tonight, aren’t we?”

“I didn’t hear you come back in.” Syri murmured, reaching behind her to press a few keys on the console.

“You look like I just caught you trying to put one of the suits on.” Laughing, the brunet walked further into the room, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. “Calm down.” Pausing a moment, he raised an eye and pointed. “So, what is that?”

Syriana honestly didn’t know whether or not she wanted to lie to Tony. She’d never really been any good at it in the past, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to start now. Clearing her throat, she folded her arms over her chest and looked elsewhere in the room. “…it’s a portable card scanner.”

“I know what _that_ is,” Tony reached around her and lifted the lid of the contraption to point at the card inside. “I meant _that_.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D access pass.” Syri mumbled out of the corner of her mouth, all but refusing to look at him.

“Mhm,” taking the card out of the scanner, Tony looked it over and raised an eyebrow. “When did you steal this off of Perv Boy?”

“After I tazed him the other day.” Shrugging, Syri pretended to be more interested in the ends of her hair until Tony reached over and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“And what do you need this for?”

The brunette hesitated, chewing at her bottom lip. “I just need the data to see if it’s possible to hack back into the systems.”

Looking from Syriana to the card that he held, Tony tapped the corner of it against the table and then set it back into the scanner. “All right. Did you have an idea of where you wanted to take me for dinner?”

“Lucio’s,” the younger woman looked genuinely stunned when Tony walked away from the equipment and didn’t scold her. “I know it’s not the priciest, but you have to remember who’s paying.”

“Lucio’s is fine.” Nodding once, Tony opened a decanter of scotch and poured them both a glass, coming over to hand Syriana hers. “When were you going to tell me that you’ve learned how to rig explosives from a remote IP address?”

“How did you…?”

“Syri, _princess_ ,” Tony chuckled and rested a hand lightly on her lower back. “You’re working in _my_ computer system. I know you didn’t think that your password was going to do any good, considering things. So, come on, out with it.”

Heaving a sigh, Syri took a sip of her scotch and shrugged lightly. “I studied some of the old blueprints from your earlier work. I didn’t steal any C-4 or anything. I didn’t even touch the explosives. They’d been sitting in that warehouse for years. I just… woke them up and set them off. And I used Brian’s private access area to do it.”

An odd look came across Tony’s features; a mix of pride and of being impressed with her actions. Smirking when she looked up at him, the billionaire just kissed her temple and downed his scotch. “Let’s go, gorgeous. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

“Am I in trouble?” Syri blurted out, looking extremely nervous when Tony turned around to look at her.

“No.” Shaking his head, Tony waved a hand. “JARVIS, continue doing whatever it was the lady asked. Then transfer all of the Project R files onto the secured drive. We don’t need anyone tapping in and looking around, understand?”

_Understood, sir._

“Thanks buddy.” Heading for the door, Tony looked back at Syriana and raised an eyebrow. “Well, are we going out or not?”

“We are,” Nodding, Syri grabbed her purse and moved to follow him. Taking hold of Tony’s sleeve to halt him, she looked up at him for a few moments before she leaned up and kissed him. Without a word, Tony returned the kiss and swept her out of the workshop. There would be plenty of time for discussing the topic of her wrongdoings later. That was, if he could keep his hands off of her after dinner. The idea that the otherwise _good girl_ had gone out and blown up a damn building was kind of a turn on for him.

He only hoped that the next time she decided to level a government building, she’d maybe let him in on it too.


	5. Bruises

“Tony?” Syriana called sleepily as she wandered out of the bedroom, running her fingers through her mussed hair. It was a little too early for the billionaire to be awake, yet she’d woken up alone just a few minutes ago. “Tony, are you here?”

_I’m afraid Mr. Stark has been called away for a meeting, Miss De Luca._

“Jesus JARVIS,” Jumping a foot in the air, Syri looked around for a moment and shook her head. “You need to give a little more warning before you just start talking, man.”

_My apologies. Is there something I can assist you with, Miss De Luca?_

“Do you know how long Tony is going to be out?”

_I do not. However, Mr. Stark asked me to inform you that your medication has been dispensed and is waiting in the kitchen._

“Thanks,” padding over to the kitchen, Syri picked up the little pile of pills and made a face before popping them into her mouth. Swallowing them down with what was left of the cold coffee Tony had left behind, she leaned against the counter and drummed her nails along the surface of it. She wasn’t in the mood to open up her laptop today; her head was still whirling from all of the code she’d typed up the night before. “JARVIS, is there anyone in the gym right now?”

 _It appears that Captain Rogers is currently occupying the gym_.

“Fuck,” Syri made a face and shrugged. “Guess I’m going out, then.”

_Shall I leave a message for Mr. Stark?_

“If he comes home before I do, just tell him I went down to the Underground Fitness Center on fifty-seventh. I shouldn’t be there too long.” Heading into the bedroom to grab her gym bag and a change of clothes, Syri pulled her hair back and shoved her feet into her sneakers. It had been a while since she’d gotten a good workout in, and she needed a break from all of the work she’d been putting in on both Project R and her prototype program for Tony’s company. Snatching her MP3 player from the charging dock, she looked around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, and headed for the elevator.

X+X+X+X

The place had been oddly empty for the forty five minutes that she’d been here, with only a handful of people on some of the machines and only one trainer in the boxing area. Syri had taken a spot at one of the punching bags for a while, beating her fists against the bag until she felt them beginning to bruise. When she’d switched to one of the treadmills, she became acutely aware that she was being watched. A familiar redhead had waltzed into the place and taken the treadmill beside hers. Pretending as though she hadn’t seen the woman, Syri turned her music up louder and broke into a run, keeping her eyes trained on the window in front of her. She had a feeling she knew why she was here, and she wasn’t in any mood to talk about it. Especially not with _her_.

The woman beside her seemed to mimic her actions, running hard on her treadmill like she was trying to outdo the brunette. Shaking her head, Syri kept her pace until she could feel the sweat dripping off of her ponytail. She would have kept running if she thought the redhead would quit before she did. Slowing down, she turned the machine off and grabbed her water bottle, stepping off to find somewhere else to work out. She didn’t feel too hot as she wiped the sweat from her face and shoulders, and cursed herself for taking her meds without eating anything afterward. Well, she was just going to have to change and go back to the Tower and hope that Tony had left a few sandwiches in the refrigerator. Barely casting a glance over her shoulder as she headed into the locker room, Syri nearly scoffed when she noticed the other woman following her. This was not going to end well; she just knew it.

“Are you following me, Agent Romanoff?” Syri bit out as she took her headphones out of her ears.

“What gave you that impression, Agent De Luca?” Natasha smirked faintly, leaning against a set of lockers near the brunette. “Maybe I just came to work out.”

“Bullshit,” shaking her head, Syri scowled at the redhead as she peeled off her sweaty clothes. Grabbing a towel from her bag, she wandered over to the showers and tugged her hair out of its ponytail. She didn’t want to talk to Natasha; she never liked talking to Natasha. “Are you going to stand there and watch me shower like a pervert, or are you going to tell me what the fuck it is you want?”

Folding her arms over her chest, Natasha pushed away from the locker she’d been leaning on and moved to stand near the shower Syri had stepped into. Clearing her throat, the redhead shot a hand out to keep Syri from shutting the curtain all the way, and smirked. “I was wondering if you’d reconsidered Director Fury’s offer.”

Go figure. Syri’d had a feeling that’s what this had been about. Shaking her head, the brunette turned the taps on and stepped under the warm spray of water. “There’s nothing to reconsider, Natasha. I’m not giving you Stark.”

“How _is_ Tony these days, Syri?” Natasha stepped closer, leaning against the wall just outside of the shower stall to peer inside at the woman. “Are you two still planning your dream wedding? Or was that last little blow up of yours the final straw for him?”

Syriana grit her teeth, turning her face away as she let the water soak her hair. She didn’t like being reminded that she’d fucked up her engagement to Tony; hardly anyone had known about it to begin with, and knowing that Natasha had caught wind of it somehow, was starting to burn her up. In fact, it was taking every ounce of her restraint to keep from throwing her shampoo bottle at the redhead. Grabbing said bottle, she poured a bit of the stuff into her hand and began to scrub it through her hair. “ _Vaffanculo,_ Natasha.”

“I’m going to guess that Tony took back the ring.”

“ _I_ still have the ring.” Syri snapped, glaring at the woman over her shoulder. “Don’t you have better things to do? I gave you the answer you wanted. Fuck off.”

“You know, after Rumiko, nobody thought Tony would ever pop the question to another woman again.” Pretending to be interested in a bruise on her knuckles, Natasha smirked faintly and sighed. “I suppose I’m far more shocked about the fact that he actually let you keep the ring instead of taking it back. Doesn’t make any sense to me. But then again, your relationship with him has never made sense to me.”

“Your mind games aren’t going to work, Agent Romanoff,” Syri muttered, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair. “I’ve been put through worse things than being reminded of my fucked up relationship with Tony. You know, maybe if you stopped being a cold-hearted _cunt_ , you could have a fucked up relationship of your own.”

“I have no time for childish things like _relationships_.”

“Right. I forgot; you’re married to the job. More so than I ever was.” Giving herself a quick scrub down, Syri shut the taps off and reached for her towel. “Look, Fury already tried to con me into this shit and it isn’t going to happen. I won’t betray Tony like that. Not for S.H.I.E.L.D, not for anybody.”

“I guess you don’t want your job back, do you?”

Syri paused, tensing slightly at Natasha’s words. She should have known the woman was going to play _that_ card. It really shouldn’t have surprised her to know that Fury had informed the redhead that the reason Syriana was no longer allowed to work at S.H.I.E.L.D for the time being, wasn’t because she’d missed her psychiatric evaluation. It was because she’d flat out refused to help investigate Tony’s recent mental decline. Oh yes, S.H.I.E.L.D had noticed that the billionaire wasn’t as apt to jump into the suit and help them out these days, and they wanted to know _why_. So, Fury had cornered the brunette that fateful morning and asked her to become part of a project to bring in whatever information could be given about where Tony stood on the moral front. And she’d been dismissed because she didn’t want any part of it.

“Agent De Luca?” Natasha’s voice snapped the brunette out of her thoughts, and Syri shook her head as she wrapped her towel around herself and flipped the other woman off.

“Get lost, Romanoff.” She said finally, opening her locker to grab her bag to retrieve her clothes. “That job isn’t important to me anymore.”

“Is that right?” Natasha moved away from the wall, stalking up behind the younger woman. “Do you really want to throw away everything you’ve worked for the last twelve years? All of your achievements will mean nothing, you realize. Anything and everything you’ve ever created while working for S.H.I.E.L.D will be thrown into a locked sector and will never see the light of day again, and without access to our servers, you won’t be able to prove anything more than the fact that you’re nothing but a virtual criminal. All we need to do is reopen your record, De Luca, and you can say _goodbye_ to your freedom, _and_ to Tony.”

“Tony knows about my past.” Syri was doing her best to keep her voice from shaking. She wasn’t as frightened as she was angry that Natasha would take the game this far. “I wouldn’t lose a thing.”

“Then I guess, I’m just going to have to persuade you to take the offer,” Grabbing the back of Syri’s head, Natasha shoved her forward and slammed her face against the locker. “Give up the game, De Luca. You have no other options anymore.”

Bringing a hand to her forehead where she’d hit it against the metal door, Syri turned around and swung a fist out at the redhead, immediately regretting the move when Natasha grabbed her wrist and twisted it hard enough to nearly break it. Shouting out, the brunette brought her foot up and slammed it into the other woman’s gut, taking the split second of freedom to move away from the locker. She didn’t want to endure another harsh blow to the head. Natasha recovered quickly and grabbed hold of the younger woman, turning to throw her back so she fell over one of the benches and landed hard on the floor. Rolling away from the kick that followed, Syri got to her feet and threw a few more punches, grunting when Natasha blocked the first two and retaliated with one that hit her square in the mouth.

Spitting the blood from her mouth, Syri tried to get a good grip on the other woman’s hair and yelped when Natasha’s knuckles plowed into her cheek. Doubling over, the brunette caught sight of her gym bag sitting on the floor a few feet away, and scrambled to grab it. A kick to her side had her curling up on the floor, wheezing as she tried to catch her breath.

“I can make the pain stop, Syriana,” Natasha said almost nonchalantly, walking over to grab the woman by the back of her shirt and toss her against the lockers. “All you have to do is say you’re with us.”

“ _Fuck you!_ ” Syriana’s hoarse cry echoed off of the locker room walls as she sat up. “I’ll never hand Tony over to you. _Never_. You’re gonna have to kill me.”

“That can be arranged,” the redhead smirked, taking another step towards the younger woman.

Reaching for her gym bag, Syri dug out a pistol she’d hidden in between her changes of clothing, and pointed it at Natasha with a shaky hand. “Get back,”

Raising a brow, the woman stopped and folded her arms over her chest, a twisted sort of smile spreading across her lips. Letting out a low chuckle, Natasha shrugged lightly and shook her head. “You know, it’s almost endearing how you’re protecting Tony.”

“I don’t think you understand how far I’d go to protect him, Natasha,” Syri spat back, turning the gun to press the muzzle against her own temple. “All of the information you need is right here, in my head. You take one more fucking step and I’ll spray my own brains all over this locker room.”

“I don’t think you’ll do it.” Natasha challenged, narrowing her eyes.

Blinking the blood out of her eyes, Syri laughed. “I’m pretty sure I _would_.”

“You really are crazy, aren’t you?” The redhead asked, studying the younger woman as though trying to figure out how to get the gun away from her. “I guess you’d have to be insane to fall for a guy like Stark.”

“You have no idea how fucking crazy I am.” Syri slurred, pulling the hammer back on the gun. “Leave, Natasha,”

Taking a step back, the older woman put her hands up. “Fine. I’ll inform Fury that you’ve declined the offer yet again. But don’t be surprised if we try again, De Luca. We’re persistent, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

Syriana watched as Natasha finally turned and walked out of the room. When she heard the door click shut, and the sound of the woman’s footsteps fading, she let out the breath she’d been holding and lowered the gun away from her head. Running her hand over her aching face, Syri grumbled at the sight of the blood in her palm and leaned her head back against the locker she was resting against. This was too much for her; she had no idea why all of this was such a big deal to S.H.I.E.L.D, and it wasn’t like Fury had explained the situation to her. He’d just offered her the mission and she’d turned it down. Swallowing down the taste of blood and fear that had filled her mouth, the brunette looked at the gun in her hand and studied it for a few moments.

 _Fuck it_. She thought, lifting the gun again to put the barrel in her mouth. _They’ll just keep trying until I agree. This is the only way…_

Closing her eyes, she squeezed the trigger and felt her heart stop when there was only a sharp _click_ that told her the chamber was empty. Confused, she pulled the gun out from between her lips and popped the barrel of the six-shooter out, staring hard when she found all six chambers empty. As soon as she caught her breath, she let it out in a sob, rubbing her bloody hand across her face again. Shaking her head, she started to laugh when she realized what must’ve happened. “Fucking _Tony_. God, you asshole. What have you done?”

Tossing the empty gun into her bag again, she sat there for a moment or two, alternating between laughing and crying. Finally, she found enough strength to get up and stumble over to the sink to wash the blood from her face. Wincing some at the damage Natasha had done, she shook her head and pressed a paper towel to the wound on her head. She wasn’t going to be able to walk back to the Tower; her body ached far too much. Staggering back over to where her things were, she shoved everything back into the bag and felt around for her cell phone. Pressing one of the speed dial numbers, she sat down on the bench and put her head in her hand as the line rang.

“Happy? Are you busy right now? I need a ride. I’m at Underground Fitness on fifty-seventh. I’ll be outside.” Pausing a moment, she started to chew at her busted lip. “You wouldn’t know how to stitch up wounds by chance, would you?”

X+X+X+X

Tony was exhausted when he finally got back to the Tower. That meeting had really taken a lot out of him, and all he really wanted to do was sit back and be lazy for the evening. However, when he stepped off of the elevator and found Syri sitting on the bar counter while Happy stitched up a gash on her forehead, all thoughts of relaxing went right out the window.

“Jesus Christ,” stalking across the room, Tony surveyed Syriana’s bruised and swollen face with wide eyes. “What the fuck happened?”

“I had a disagreement with someone.” Syri mumbled, picking up the glass of vodka she was drinking to take a sip. “Do you have any Vicodin lying around? My fucking body hurts.”

“Hogan, how much of that has she had?” Tony asked, gesturing to the glass as he tried to take in the damage on the woman’s face.

“I just poured it, sir.” Closing the last stitch, Happy sighed and took a step back. “You’re done.”

“Thanks, Hap.” Syri gave the man’s shoulder a pat and downed the rest of the vodka. “Tony, pills?”

“Yeah,” Nodding, Tony shot Happy a look. “Walk with me, Hogan.”

“What’s up, Boss?” Happy asked, cleaning the blood from his hands with a towel that was already stained with Syriana’s blood.

“What the _hell_ happened to her?” Tony asked, opening the medicine cabinet to get the bottle of pills.

“She said she’d been jumped in the locker room. Wouldn’t say who did it, or why. She’s pretty roughed up, Tony. I guess I don’t need to tell you that, though.”

Taking a deep breath, Tony let it out slowly and nodded. “Right, thanks. You, uh… you can go, if you want.”

“You might want to keep an eye on her, sir. She hit her head pretty hard. She refuses to let me take her to the hospital, but if you can get her to change her mind, you know how to reach me.”

Nodding, the billionaire thanked Happy again and waited for him to leave before he headed back to where Syriana sat fiddling with something in her hands. Clearing his throat, he held out the Vicodin for her to take. “This is all you’re getting for now.”

“Thank you,” popping the pills, Syri hopped down to get a drink of water from the nearby tap and winced when Tony rested his hand on her back. “Taplight, I wouldn’t touch me right now.”

“Take off your clothes.” The command left his lips before he could stop them. “Let me see.”

“You’re looking at the worst of it right now,” Syri murmured, stepping away to comply with the order. She really didn’t feel like refusing him right now, and she whimpered a little as she tugged her shirt off over her head. Turning, she gave her bruised ribs a light rub and shot Tony a tired look. The billionaire clenched his jaw as he looked her over, an almost murderous look crossing his handsome features. Reaching out, he tentatively ran a fingertip along the woman’s swollen cheek, and down over the area of her chest that was starting to turn purple.

“Who did this?” His voice was thick with anger and he had to refrain from reaching out to grab and shake the woman in front of him for answers. “Syriana, _who?_ ”

“It doesn’t matter, Tony.” Grabbing the cigarettes off of the counter, Syri slowly made her way outside and lit up. “All you need to know is that there will not be a _next time_.”

Following her, Tony just barely resisted the urge he had to start shouting. He wanted answers, and he wanted them _now_. But he knew how stubborn Syriana could be, and there was a good chance she wasn’t _ever_ going to tell him. So, he simply stood there, staring at her until he caught sight of a familiar piece of jewelry wrapped around one of her fingers. Frowning, the billionaire took hold of her hand and stared down at the ring she wore. Sweeping his thumb across it, he wasn’t surprised when she jerked her hand back, and found her staring at him when he leveled his gaze with hers again. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, until Tony found enough sense to speak. Clearing his throat, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and dropped his gaze to the floor.

“You still have it?”

“Of course I do,” Syri answered, her voice sounding a bit scratchy from the cigarette smoke. “What was I going to do? Sell it?”

“You’re _wearing_ it.” Heaving a sigh, Tony ran a hand through his hair. “I guess that’s what surprises me.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not under the impression that the engagement is back on, Tony.” Taking a deep drag of the cigarette, Syri moved away to lean against the railing overlooking the city. After a few moments of silence, she closed her swollen eyes and bent to rest her head against her arms. “You took the bullets out of my gun.”

Tony’s head snapped up at the accusation and he stared at her. Licking his lips, he tipped his head slightly in an awkward nod. “I did.”

“Thought I was gonna blow my brains out, did you?”

“The idea crossed my mind, yeah.”

“Thanks.” Syri murmured softly, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

An odd look crossed Tony’s face as he took a few steps towards her. “ _Thanks?_ For what?”

Pressing her lips together in a thin line, Syri did her best to blink back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. Flicking the cigarette over the balcony railing, she stood up straight and folded her arms over her chest, wiping the tears away with a wince. “You probably saved someone from cleaning up a big mess today. So, thank you, Taplight.”

As Tony processed what she was telling him, a sick feeling filled the pit of his stomach. Without thinking, he reached out and gingerly took hold of her arm, surprised when Syri all but threw herself at him. Holding her as close as he could without causing her any further pain, the billionaire stroked his hand through the younger woman’s dark hair and just stood there, speechless, while she sobbed against his shoulder. Questions ran rampant in his mind; was she saying what he thought she was saying? Or had the weapon been used against her during the scuffle that had left her so battered and bruised? He wanted to ask. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask. But he couldn’t, because he didn’t want the answers. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that he _did_ want them, the idea of knowing the truth just sort of made him sick.

“Tony?” Syri’s voice was weak when it sounded in his ear, and the older man pulled back slowly to look at her. “You know I would do anything for you, right?”

He blinked, a little thrown off by the confession. “…yeah. I know.”

“And I am _so_ sorry about what I did. For leaving, for not calling, for not giving you the answers you needed…”

“Syriana, slow down,” frowning, the brunet knit his brows together in confusion. “What is this about?”

“I…” Syri licked her swollen lips, unsure if she wanted to tell him the truth. Part of her thought it would be best if she told him that Natasha had beat her up, and that Fury had propositioned her to find out everything she could about why he was becoming less than heroic these days. But she had a bad feeling that if she told him, he’d actually _do_ something about it, and he would get himself hurt in the process. She wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if that happened. So, she curled herself against his chest and rested her bruised cheek beside the reactor, letting the blue glow from beneath his shirt soothe her the way it always did, and sighed. “I still want to be yours, Tony. I know now, that there’s nothing else in the world that I want more. I would die to protect you, if I had to. I can’t say that about anyone else.”

Tony could only stare at the woman in his arms, completely and utterly confused. Sure, her words meant something to him, but the fact that they’d literally come out of nowhere made him a little suspicious. Sighing heavily, he brushed the hair away from her face and kissed the top of her head. He didn’t know what to say to her right now, and he wasn’t sure if words would even matter. Everything had just come at him so fast since he’d set foot in the Tower, and nothing was making sense anymore. Closing his eyes as he rested his chin on top of her head, Tony just continued to hold her while his mind tried to make sense of the entire situation.

X+X+X+X

“I lied to you the other night, Tony,” Syri murmured as she watched Tony piece together another section of the suit he’d been working on for weeks now.

“Oh?” Looking up from his work, Tony raised an eyebrow at the brunette perched on a table top nearby with an ice pack pressed to her cheek. “What about?”

“You asked if I was planning to blow up S.H.I.E.L.D and I told you I wasn’t.” Lowering the ice pack, Syri leaned over with a wince and tapped a few things on the halo-keyboard next to her to bring up the Project R files. “I am. And you’re right, it’s a stupid idea. But that’s only because I don’t know what I’m doing. That building from a few days ago, that was a test to see if I could actually get the explosives to detonate. It wasn’t really part of the plan, but…”

“I know.” Shrugging, Tony turned back to his work. “I already told you I went through the files, De Luca. Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because…” Syri hesitated, picking through the files in front of her until she found one that had been locked. Entering in the passcode to open it, she pulled a few things out and flicked them to the screen nearest to Tony. “I’ve changed my mind a little bit.”

“Do tell,” the billionaire sat up to look at the plans Syri had sent to him.

“This is much more personal than I’ve let on. I don’t give a shit about being fired anymore. I care that S.H.I.E.L.D is trying to compromise me.”

“I’m not sure I’m following, Syri.”

“Do you trust me, Tony?” The brunette asked, tilting her head at him. “Like, really trust me?”

“Syriana,” licking his lips, Tony shook his head and leaned back in his seat, shooting her a look. “You’ve been so cryptic all night. You came home looking like someone used you as their personal punching bag, and you won’t tell me what the _hell_ happened. And now you’re asking me if I trust you? I don’t know De Luca, do you trust _me?_ ”

“Natasha,” Syri leveled her gaze with his and didn’t look away. “Natasha cornered me at the gym and beat me up.”

Blinking, the older man frowned. “Natasha? _Agent Romanoff?_ Why would she—”

“Fury didn’t fire me because I missed an evaluation, Tony. He fired me because I refused to do his dirty work and investigate you. Natasha showed up today, I guess to see if I’d changed my mind, and when I told her I hadn’t, well…” Waving a hand, the brunette sighed and fought to keep from rubbing her hand over her face.

“What the hell do they want to investigate me for?” Tony asked, raising a brow.

“Because you’re being less than heroic these days. They want to know _why_. I refuse to help them. I’d rather take them down and expose them for what they really are.”

Grinding his teeth absently, Tony stared at his oil-stained hands and drew in a slow breath before letting it out in a sigh. “Well, then I guess I don’t feel bad for wanting to join in the anarchy with you, princess.”

“I don’t know what Romanoff thought she was going to accomplish today.” Shaking her head, Syri eyeballed the ring she still wore and continued to tap her fingers against the keyboard. “As if beating the ever-loving shit out of me was going to make me change my mind. It’s like I told her, I’d sooner blow my brains out before I said anything to them.”

“Is that why you mentioned the gun?” Tony pushed away from the worktable, getting up to pour them both a generous amount of alcohol to share.

“I always take that thing with me. I guess I should have checked to see if it was loaded first.” Shrugging as much as she could, the brunette took the glass Tony held out to her and swallowed down a good mouthful. “I put the thing to my skull and threatened to pull the trigger. I don’t think she realizes that I would have actually done it, too.”

Tony didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t like the idea that Syri would willingly blow her own head off just to keep him safe. Mostly because he didn’t understand _why_ she would. He really didn’t feel worth the trouble.

“Stop looking like that,” reaching out, Syri swatted Tony’s leg. “For fuck’s sake, Tony. I’m not joking when I tell you that I love you, you know.”

“I know.” Nodding slowly, Tony took a sip of the booze and looked around the shop, trying to avoid pressing the subject any further. Frowning as a thought entered his head, he shifted his gaze back to Syri and reached out to play with a piece of her hair. “How did you know the gun wasn’t loaded if you didn’t check first?”

Syriana stiffened, her fingers pausing in their rhythmic tapping as she held her breath and stared straight ahead of her. Swallowing, she sank back in her seat with a wince and rubbed her hands over her face, despite the pain that followed the action. Shaking her head, she looked back up at Tony and hesitated. If she told him that she’d put the thing in her mouth and pulled the trigger, he wasn’t going to be happy. Then again, if she lied or changed the subject like she wanted to, it wasn’t going to make the situation any better. Taking back the glass of booze, she sipped at it a few times before actually downing some of it, and handed it back without looking at him. “Because after Natasha left, I…”

“Stop.” Tony closed his eyes, looking like he was going to be sick. “That’s enough. I don’t… I changed my mind. I don’t want to know, princess.”

“I was doing it for you. Stupid, I know. But they need me. They need the information that I have, and they’re going to keep trying to find ways for me to comply with them, Tony.” Reaching for the billionaire’s hand, Syri laced her fingers with his and sighed. “It’s not safe for either of us anymore. We shouldn’t stay here.”

“We’ll go to Malibu.” Tony gave her fingers a weak squeeze and polished off what was left in the glass. “We’ll pack everything up and leave tonight. I’ll call Hogan and get him to help. We won’t tell anyone where we’re going, and we’ll lay low when we get to California.”

“Do you really think S.H.I.E.L.D won’t find us, Tony?” Syri asked, getting up from her seat to gently turn Tony’s head so he’d look at her. “We can’t stay off the radar for very long. You know that.”

“All I need is a week. One week and they can come break down my door, if they want.” Smirking faintly, the brunet raised an eyebrow and reached up to lightly brush his thumb over the younger woman’s bruised cheek. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course,” Syri nodded, covering his hand with her own. “I trust you with my life, Tony.”

“Good.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Tony pulled away and clapped his hands. “All right, JARVIS, get ready pal. We’re moving out. Pack it all up and get Hogan up here. Put the bots in Sleep Mode and I’ll make sure they get put away.”

_Right away, sir._

“And you,” turning, Tony pointed at Syriana and picked up the decanter of scotch, taking a long drink from it. “You’re bringing your toys on the plane. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” 


	6. Intermission

“Hey princess, how are those ribs doing?” Tony asked as he came out of the workshop with some kind of weird material draped over his arm. Looking up from where she was poring over a cookbook, trying to figure out how much red wine needed to be added to the chicken she was cooking, Syri raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“They’re still a little bruised, but I don’t feel like I’m going to die every time I take a breath. Why?” Tapping her finger against the page, the brunette turned to measure out the liquid, taking a drink straight from the bottle after she’d finished.

“Come over here for a minute,” Tony shook the material loose, revealing a smaller version of the body suit he wore beneath the Iron Man suits. “I want you to try this on. It’ll be a bit snug at first, just to warn you.”

Giving the food a stir, Syri lowered the heat and set her spoon aside, coming over to inspect the little body suit. Frowning, she shot the older man a look and plucked at the collar. “I know you did not build a suit of armor for me.”

“You’re right, I didn’t.” Grinning, Tony held up the body suit and waved it at her. “Just put it on, will you? I want to make sure it isn’t too tight.”

“The things I do for you.” Heaving a sigh, Syri took a step back and started to strip down, pausing when she got to her underwear. “These too?”

“Everything.”

“You just want to see me walk around naked. Sicko.” Smirking at the billionaire, Syri took off the last of her clothes and took the suit from him. Eyeballing it, she took a moment to figure out how to get into the thing, and pulled it on, wincing when the material clung to her injured ribs. “Christ, it’s like wearing a corset. What the hell is this for?”

Walking around to stand behind the younger woman, Tony carefully pulled Syri’s hair to the side and zipped the suit up. Gently turning her around, he studied the way it looked and stepped back to cross his arms over his chest. “JARVIS, take note: De Luca’s suit size is a four. How many wires do you think it’ll need?”

_Fiber optic count would be between five and six hundred, sir._

“What about the flexible memory drives? How many would we need to install to upload most of the program?”

_We would need at least four drives, sir. Might I suggest installing them at the base of each wrist and in the calves?_

“What are you two planning?” Syri asked, squinting at the brunet as she turned to go and check her food. “What is this thing for, Tony?”

“I told you I wasn’t building a suit for you. But I _am_ , however, going to upgrade you a little bit.”

“Come again?” Looking back at Tony, Syri flexed her fingers in the glove-like ends of the suit and stared at the weird little pads at the tips.

“I’m basically building you a computerized exoskeleton so you can keep up with me when things get… hairy, so to speak.” Coming over, Tony stole the spoon to taste the sauce the chicken was simmering in. “Damn, that’s good.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Taking the spoon back, Syri set it on the counter and folded her arms over her chest, hissing some when the material pinched one of the bruises on her side. “How do you expect me to get away with wearing something like this in public, Tony?”

“Easy,” smirking, the older man traced a finger along the collar of the suit. “I’m going to paint it the same color as your skin. You’ll be able to wear it beneath your normal clothes. The gloves are removable, so you won’t have to worry about looking like a weirdo without fingernails. Your nipples are about _here_ , right?”

Syri let out a yelp when Tony brought a hand up and attempted to pinch her chest through the suit, smacking his hand away and rolling her eyes at him. “Stop that.”

“Hey, I’m aiming for accuracy here.” Grinning, the older man motioned for her to turn around so he could unzip the suit. “After dinner, I’ll take you down to the workstation and JARVIS can get a scan of your body. That way, the paint job will be accurate.”

“How am I supposed to pee if I’m wearing that thing?” Syri muttered, peeling the suit off to hand it back. Grabbing her clothes, she started to pull them back on when Tony rested a hand on her lower back and kissed her bruised cheek.

“I’ll make a few adjustments. This is just the prototype.” Looking back to the suit, he sighed and started to walk away when Syri took hold of his arm.

“You’re going to turn me into a FemBot, aren’t you?” She grumbled, narrowing her eyes. “I always knew you had a _thing_ for your Tech, Taplight, but Jesus,”

“I am _not_ turning you into a FemBot, princess. I’m basically just building you a computer that you can wear.”

“How do you plan on powering that thing?” Syri let him go and moved away to pull her top back on and check the food once more.

“You’ll see.” Tony smiled at her, the look in his eyes suggesting that he was planning on keeping this a secret from her for as long as he could. Turning on his heel, he wandered back towards the stairs leading to the workshop. “Call me when dinner’s ready, okay?”

“Was planning on it.” Syri called back, smirking faintly as she turned back to the stove. The brunette sighed a little to herself as she checked the water she was boiling for the pasta, and frowned when she caught sight of her bruised face in the reflection of the stainless steel overhang above the stove. They’d only been in Malibu for three days and it seemed that her bruises were only getting darker. She had to hand it to Natasha; the woman packed a mean punch. Grumbling as she added salt to the water, followed by the bag of noodles, Syri let her thoughts drift off to the body suit Tony was making for her. How the hell he thought he was going to cram the pieces needed for a computer into that thing, was beyond her. But then again, this was a man who had perfected the designs of flexible tabletop computers and halo-image screens. His brain was probably a thousand times smarter than hers, and honestly, she was a little jealous of that.

She could create programs and code from literally nothing, but when it came to putting together ideas for inventions like the ones Tony had come up with over the years, she fell a little flat. She’d built her share of computers and things, sure, but she always seemed to be about twenty steps behind Tony when it came to some of this stuff. She supposed that she ought to be thankful for the brain and ideas that she _did_ have, but she really couldn’t help herself sometimes. She used to think that maybe if she’d gone to college and expanded her mind even further, she might be where Tony was today; at the top of the technological food chain. But nobody had predicted her mother’s sickness, or that she’d have to become a kind of virtual criminal in order to obtain the job she’d had for the last twelve years. And nobody had predicted that she’d lose a little bit of her sanity while out in the field, either. She’d once told Tony that all of the best geniuses were a little nuts, but she felt like she was the _wrong_ kind of crazy she needed to be considered a genius. It didn’t matter how much she was praised, or how astonished Tony sometimes was with her work. She still felt inadequate whenever she compared herself to him.

Grumbling out another sigh, Syri picked up her spoon again to stir the pasta and flicked off the burner beneath the pan with the chicken in it. “JARVIS? Will you let Tony know it’s time to eat?”

X+X+X+X

“God, it’s freezing in here,” Syri mumbled as she disrobed in the middle of the garage, making a face at Tony through one of the halo-screens he was working with. Pulling her hair up like he’d told her to moments before, she fought to keep from shivering and frowned. “Can’t we turn the heat up in here?”

“I thought you worked better in uncomfortable environments?” Tony teased with a smirk, tapping a few keys.

“But I’m not _working_ , Tony.” Finally giving in to the urge to shiver, Syri rubbed a hand up and down her arm and grumbled under her breath. “I’m standing naked in your drafty garage so that JARVIS can scan me. Or whatever.”

“Ten minutes. That’s all we need to get the scan done, princess.” Hitting a little blip of red text on the screen, Tony wheeled his chair away from the desk and tilted his head as he eyed the younger woman. “Drop your arms to your sides, Syri. And try to stay as still as possible.”

“This is humiliating,” doing as she was told the brunette tensed slightly to keep from shaking all over the place, and shot Tony a dirty look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“On the contrary, I don’t really _like_ it when you look uncomfortable. Makes _me_ uncomfortable.” Reaching for the mug of coffee on the desk, the billionaire downed what was left of it and got up from his seat to refill it. “JARVIS, up the temperature to about seventy. Don’t make her suffer.”

_As you wish, sir._

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Syri let out a soft sigh, and closed her eyes, trying her hardest to keep her hands where they rested at her sides. She _hated_ that the scars on her belly were visible and would no doubt be painted onto the suit Tony had constructed. She wanted to complain about it, but she had a feeling it would stir up a pointless fight about _accuracy_.

“You’re gorgeous,” Tony’s voice was low and soft, and it made Syri’s eyes snap open to look at him. “Stop twitching so much, princess.”

“I don’t know how you can say that.” The words were out before she had a chance to stop them, but she figured it didn’t matter at this point. Tony knew how she felt about the marks; she went out of her way to hide them at all times. She hadn’t worn a midriff baring shirt or a bikini in years, and she always kept her work blouses tucked into her slacks with an extra tank top underneath just in case the material ever came loose. She found it amusing, however, that she’d flashed them to Tony without thinking about it when they were first starting to get to know each other.

She’d been so angry that he’d gone and sifted through her S.H.I.E.L.D file without her consent, that she’d literally ripped the shirt off her back to show him. But never had he said anything rude about the scars. He was careful to avoid pointing them out, and he refused to agree with her whenever she said she felt ugly because of them. But sometimes, in the shower or when they were lying together after sex, she’d catch him tracing his fingertips along them; like they were some sort of twisted fortune to be read. Syriana hated them, but Tony had accepted that they were part of her. In the same manner, she realized, that she had accepted the reactor as part of him.

“I say it because it’s true.”

“And you’re a Class A Liar, Tony,” scoffing, the brunette shut her eyes again and dropped her head forward. “You are so lucky I can’t move right now.”

“What would you do if you could, Syri? Hit me for trying to say something nice?”

Shaking her head, the younger woman chewed at her lip.

“What, then?”

“JARVIS, how much longer?” Syri asked, completely ignoring Tony, even when the billionaire walked over to stand near the area where she was being scanned.

 _You have four minutes and twenty-seven seconds left, Miss De Luca_.

“Thanks,” barely glancing at Tony, Syri licked her lips and did her best to remain still. She could tell just by how firm his footsteps were against the garage floor, that he wasn’t through discussing this with her. Well, that was just too damn bad, because she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Princess, look at me.” Standing in front of her, Tony waited until the brunette’s eyes reluctantly shifted to him. He started to take a step forward when JARVIS halted him.

_Sir, I would advise you to stay out of the scanning area._

Tony wanted to tell JARVIS to shut up, but he kept the words to himself and planted his foot back where it belonged. Looking back to Syri, he sighed and rubbed at his eyebrow tiredly. “How many times are we going to do this, princess?”

“You know I don’t have an answer for that, Tony.” Chewing the inside of her cheek, Syri did her best to keep eye contact with the billionaire. “We always seem to have a discussion like this every now and then.”

“I just… don’t understand. Do you think that berating yourself like that in front of me is going to make you feel better? As if I don’t have hang ups of my own?”

“I know you do, Tony—”

“I don’t point yours out to you, and you don’t point mine out.” Taking a sip of his coffee, Tony looked over his shoulder to check to see how much time was left on the scan. “So why the fuck do we do this?”

Syriana shrugged lightly, hoping in the back of her mind that she hadn’t just screwed anything up with that movement; she really didn’t want to stand here any longer than she had to. “I don’t know, Tony. Because we’re fucked up?”

The older man seemed to consider this for a moment, chewing the corner of his lip as he narrowed his eyes. Giving a nod, he turned and walked back over to the desk. “Right. That’s the answer for everything, isn’t it?”

“Tony—”

“I’m serious, princess.” Taking his seat, Tony looked at the screen and poked another little bit of red text. “It’s a good enough reason, I guess. And I suppose we don’t have to explain ourselves to each other because of it. You’re done, by the way.”

“ _Grazie a Dio._ ” The brunette moved to step off of the platform she’d been standing on, and headed over to where she’d thrown her clothes.

“Princess,” Tony spoke in a softer tone this time, waving a hand at the woman when she looked up at him. “Come here for a minute,”

Hesitating, Syri abandoned her clothing and sauntered over, taking the robe Tony handed her and pulling it on before she sat on his lap. The billionaire rested his hand on her lower back, gently stroking the base of her spine through the silken material of the robe. Smiling at her weakly, he nudged her closer and took hold of the hand that bore the engagement ring he’d given her so long ago. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and the silence that stretched between them seemed to thicken the air in the room. Finally, Tony kissed the tips of Syri’s fingers and broke the silence.

“Why don’t we go to Vegas?”

Frowning, the brunette raised an eyebrow. “Vegas? Aren’t we supposed to be laying low?”

“We are,” he nodded, dropping his gaze to the ring he was smoothing his thumb over. “But I was thinking, maybe we shouldn’t do that anymore.”

“We’re hiding for a _reason_ , Tony. We don’t need S.H.I.E.L.D finding us right now. We’re not ready.”

“I’m ready.” He took a slow breath and finally looked back up at the younger woman. “I’ll have that suit done by the weekend. That gives us enough time to pack for a quick trip.”

“Tony, I don’t understand.” Shaking her head, the brunette knit her brows together and stared at him strangely. She had the slightest idea of what he was suggesting, but she didn’t want to say anything in case she was wrong. “What would I wear? I don’t have anything fancy enough for Vegas.”

“I’ll call my stylist. She can dress you up incognito and the two of you can go out and find something appropriate for the trip.”

“Taplight,” licking her lips, Syri glanced away for a moment before leveling her gaze with the older man’s. “Are you suggesting…?”

Tony didn’t say anything. He simply leaned up and planted a kiss to her lips before giving her back a pat. “Shoo. Go back upstairs. Go take advantage of that bathtub. I know you’ve been eyeballing it since we got here.” Looking back to the worktable, he sighed. “I’ll finish putting the drives into the suit and I’ll meet you up there, all right?”

Blinking, the brunette could only stare at him, nodding slowly. Getting up from her spot on his knee, she chewed at her lip before taking hold of his face in both of her hands and bringing him in for a deep kiss. Keeping her lips pressed to his, she gave his cheek an affectionate nudge with the tip of her nose. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Princess,” pulling back, the older man smirked and gave her hand a pat. “I’ve been sure about this for the last year. I was just waiting on you.”

Smiling down at him, Syri nodded and took a step back, shedding the robe he’d given her and dropping it into his lap with a wicked sort of smirk. Without a word, she turned with a roll of her hips and yelped when she bumped into the table. Recovering quickly, she straightened herself and walked towards the stairs, swishing her hips with her head held high in some sort of attempt to redeem some of her dignity. Tony couldn’t help chuckling as he watched her walk away, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

“Hey JARVIS?” He got up from his chair, pulling his shirt off and starting in on his belt as he headed for the door.

_Yes sir?_

“Get started on that paint job, buddy. Make sure it’s dry enough for me to work with when I get back.”

_Of course, sir._

“Good man. See you in an hour or so.”

 _Take your time, sir_.

“Oh, I plan on it.”

X+X+X+X

Syriana was going to be sick. She had hardly been able to breathe since they’d landed, and as she stood on the balcony of their hotel room chain smoking and pacing around, she thought for sure she was either going to faint or vomit all over herself. Tony had gone off to get things squared away and left her in the room with all of the miniature bottles of alcohol and none of her anti-anxiety pills. One the one hand, this was probably a good thing. She would be at high risk of an overdose if she took even _one_ Xanax right now. But, oh _God_ , the bliss of putting herself into a drug and alcohol induced coma had to be sweeter than the gut wrenching nervousness bubbling away in her belly.

What the hell was she _doing?_ As much as she loved Tony, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t just haul off and marry him. There was supposed to be a church and guests and flowers; her mother and father were supposed to be there –in spirit, anyway. There was supposed to be a big fancy dress and a bunch of people pretending to be happy for her while they threw rice into the air and cheered. Instead, there was going to be a run down wedding chapel, probably with an Elvis or Frank Sinatra impersonator to oversee the vows. Her dress was pretty enough, but it wasn’t her dream gown. Jesus Christ, she’d never really even picked out a gown, had she? Even when they were still planning the _big_ wedding last year, she’d never been able to choose a dress that suited her.

She’d been so worried about details that she’d thrown herself into a panic much like this one, and she’d fled New York for a week before contacting Tony to tell him that she couldn’t do it. She was just too afraid of fucking everything up, that she _actually_ went and fucked it all up for herself. And here she was, about to let history repeat itself. Leaning against the railing as she pitched her cigarette over the side, the brunette wondered faintly how painful it would be to just throw herself off from this distance. It was a top floor suite, so she had no doubt that she wouldn’t feel a Goddamn thing, but there would probably be a huge mess…

Shaking her head, the brunette pushed away from the railing and went back inside the room. Looking to the clock, she saw that she didn’t have much time until Tony got back. She had to make a decision quick; was she going to change into the dress and make herself pretty and submit herself to being Mrs. Syriana James _Stark_ , or was she going to grab her shit and run? The latter was starting to look pretty appealing, if she wanted to be honest with herself. But a voice at the back of her head reminded her of what her actions had done to Tony the last time. It was _her_ fault he was like this; she just knew it. There had been a steady decline in his willingness to help others ever since she’d walked out on him. _That_ had to be why S.H.I.E.L.D wanted her to be the one to investigate the problem. They wanted to rub her mistakes in her face and make her pay for it, as though the last eleven months of bad dreams and panic attacks hadn’t been bad enough. They wanted to see her suffer _more_ than she already had.

Syri felt dizzy as she brought a hand to her head and sat down on the arm of a plush couch. Maybe those last two baby bottles of whiskey had been a bad idea. Considering she’d consumed everything but the sodas in the mini fridge, she was probably on the verge of being very drunk. Tony didn’t deserve that. Granted, the man had been sipping scotch since they’d left Malibu, but that was just Tony. Even he wasn’t going to be completely sober for this, right? Letting out a frustrated little yell, the brunette stood up again and thumped the heels of her hands against her forehead, trying to knock some damn sense into herself. She had to get it together and get ready. Nerves or no nerves, she couldn’t run out on Tony again. If her mother were alive, she knew the woman would be shouting at her for being so foolish and letting something as stupid as her fear of commitment get in the way of what she really wanted. And what Syri wanted, was _Tony_.

Right. She could do this. She could suck it up and put that damn dress on and stand in front of the Sinatra impersonator and whatever witnesses Tony had picked up off of the street, and give herself to him completely. Yes, she was strong enough. She deserved to be happy, and so did Tony. She just had to throw up first before she did anything else. Turning on her heel to dash into the bathroom, she almost didn’t make it in time to crouch in front of the toilet and heave the liquid contents of her stomach into it. Coughing as she gagged, Syri became aware of the fact that she wasn’t the only one in the room anymore. A set of calloused hands gently gathered her hair away from her face and held it back for her in one fist. A palm rubbed up and down her spine, and in between sharp gasps for breath and the horrible gagging noises that followed, she could hear Tony attempting to soothe her.

“You too, huh princess?” He asked, grunting for someone behind him to get a glass of water. “These nerves are a bitch, aren’t they?”

Sitting up, Syri wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and gingerly took the glass that was handed to her. Nodding at the questions, she took a few sips before swishing some of the water around in her mouth and spitting it into the toilet. Leaning back against Tony, she grunted when she felt him dabbing at her chin with a towel, and heaved a sigh. “Pretty sure I’m going to be too drunk for this,”

“Baby, this is Vegas,” the billionaire chuckled, helping her to her feet. “It’s like a rule that you have to be drunk in order to get married here.”

“You want to do this, right? You _really_ want to do this?” Syri asked, allowing the older man to walk her back out into the main room of the suite.

“Hey,” turning her face so she was looking at him, Tony set his dark eyes on hers and smiled faintly. “We’ve already gone through this. _Yes_. I want to do this. Do _you_ want to do this, sweetheart?”

“I want to be happy.” She mumbled back, shifting to rest against his side.

“Do I make you happy?” The question was quiet, tentative.

“Hell no,” laughing into Tony’s shoulder, Syri shook her head. “You infuriate me. You make me want to break things. I’ve spent more time crying over you than I ever did over Jesse. Or Steve. You make me want to curl up and listen to Nickelback and _cry_ , Tony.”

“Nickelback? _Really?_ ” The billionaire was trying to keep the amusement out of his voice with little success. “I’m actually _offended_ , princess.”

“Shut up,” the brunette weakly smacked at his chest, snorting in a rather unattractive manner. “I’m serious. I hate you so much sometimes, but you know what? I literally cannot live without you, Taplight. Nobody has ever taken care of me the way that you do. You don’t treat me like a child, and you don’t spare my feelings when it comes to telling me my work sucks. You make my life _fun_. I would die for you, and I would stay alive for you. You’re the best Goddamn mistake I’ve ever made, and I love you.”

Tony stood there, smiling down at the brunette as he kept her propped upright in the crook of his arm. Planting a kiss to her temple, he turned slightly and raised an eyebrow. “Did you get that, Christine?”

“ _Christine?_ ” Syri lifted her head, turning some to stare at a familiar looking blonde standing beside Tony’s friend Rhodey. Narrowing her eyes a bit, the younger woman started to give Tony a dirty look when he pressed another kiss to the side of her head and murmured quietly in her ear.

“Think of it as a wedding gift, princess. Remember way back when I told you I’d arrange a bare-knuckle boxing match between you and _cheeks_ over there?” Chuckling some, the billionaire gave her a squeeze. “Trust me, she’ll run the story _we_ want her to after tonight.”

“Is she one of our witnesses?” Syri asked, straightening herself as much as she could.

“Actually, no,” gesturing to Rhodey, Tony smirked. “He agreed to be _my_ witness.”

“And what about _mine?_ ”

“So greedy, aren’t we?” Snickering, the billionaire sighed and rubbed at his forehead a little. “Well, I was going to ask Pepper if she’d be your witness, but I really don’t think that would’ve gone over too well. So, I asked Steve and, oddly enough, he said _yes_.”

“Steve?” The brunette was honestly a little surprised. She’d spent the last few weeks _avoiding_ Steve, yet he was apparently here and apparently willing to watch her marry herself off to Tony.

“He said he wanted to do whatever made you happy.” Shrugging, Tony smiled faintly. “Said something about _giving you away_ since your dad couldn’t. I think he’s in the next room, changing into his military uniform or something.”

Syriana almost wanted to cry. How Steve could remain so sweet to her after the _really_ shitty things she’d done to him in the past, was beyond her. But she was grateful to have him, and she would tell him so when she got a moment.

“Okay princess,” guiding her into the little bedroom, the billionaire gave her a quick pat on the rump and pointed to the dress laid out on the bed. “You go ahead and get ready. Try not to hurt yourself, all right? You’re swaying all over the place.”

“I’ll be careful.” Syri promised with a nod.

“Good. Take your time, Syri. They’ll hold the chapel for us as long as we need them to.” Giving her one last smile and kiss on the cheek, Tony left the room and closed the door behind him.

X+X+X+X

“Tony,” Syri mumbled as she tugged at the neckline of her dress anxiously when they got out of the car at the back of the chapel. “I don’t have my four things.”

“Four things?” The billionaire echoed, frowning lightly.

“You know, Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed and Something Blue?”

“Right,” glancing around, Tony smirked and shot the younger woman a wicked look. “You’ve got Cap, so there’s your something _old_ —”

“Watch it, Stark,” Steve muttered, rolling his eyes when Syriana giggled into her hand.

“—and that dress is brand new, so that counts. Hm… something _borrowed_.” Leaning over, Tony took hold of one of Christine’s earrings and tugged it out of her lobe, ignoring the yelp that followed. “You don’t mind, right Christine?”

“You could _ask_ next time, Stark,” the blonde grumbled back as she rubbed her ear. “Take it, De Luca. You can give it back to me later.”

“Somebody should disinfect this first.” Eyeing the earring, Tony looked over at Rhodey and raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any of those weird little wet naps you carry sometimes?”

Shooting his friend a look, Rhodey just shook his head. Snickering, Syri took the earring and patted Tony’s pockets down for his lighter. Once she’d sterilized the post of the earring –all the while avoiding the dirty look she was receiving from Christine- Syri replaced one of the studs she was already wearing with it. Frowning a little, the brunette did her best not to run her fingers through her hair, lest she mess it up, and nudged Tony again. “I need something _blue_.”

“You could give her your reactor, Tony.” Christine suggested, giving the man a bitter smirk as she moved to stand off to the side. She wasn’t supposed to be part of the ceremony; she was just here to document it.

“Hah! _No_.” Tapping the blue light beneath his shirt, Tony shook his head. “Not happening. Rhodes, you have anything blue on you?”

“Your girl can’t have my shorts, man,” Rhodey shook his head, trying not to laugh. “What about you, Rogers?”

Looking himself over, Steve started to shake his head when he caught sight of a fake flower arrangement just inside the door. Walking over, he glanced around before plucking one of the ugly blue flowers out of the vase to bring to Syri. “Here,”

“This works,” Smirking, Syri stuck the flower in with the rest of her bouquet and sighed. “Okay, I think we’re good.”

“All right then. C’mon people, let’s get this show on the road. Rhodey, you come with me, Everhart, you stay outside and wait until we’re done. Cap, you bring the little woman in when it’s time.” Tony clapped his hands together, turning to Syriana when the brunette gave his sleeve a tug. Smiling at her, he rested his hands on her shoulders and brought her in for a quick kiss. “You okay, princess?”

“Having a little trouble breathing,” the younger woman confessed, tugging at her dress again. “But I think I’ll be all right.”

“Good.” Stealing another quick kiss, Tony pulled away and grinned. “You know, if you want one last makeout session with the Capsicle here, or even with Rhodey, now’s the time to do it. After this, it’s just you and me, sweetheart.”

Letting out a bark of laughter, Syri shook her head and smacked the billionaire’s arm. “ _No_. I’m perfectly content with not doing that. Go on. Get inside. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“All right. Rhodes, let’s go.”

X+X+X+X

Syriana could hardly remember anything about the night before when she woke up with a headache that threatened to split her skull in half. She was in the middle of rubbing a hand over her face when she took notice of the ring on her finger that Tony had placed there just hours before. All at once, everything came flooding back; the look on Tony’s face when Steve had brought her down the makeshift aisle, how hard she’d started shaking when she’d recited the silly vows they’d written. She could remember wanting to faint when Tony put the ring on her finger, and the kiss that followed it. Oh God, and the champagne. There had been _so much_ champagne. A second glance to her hand had her trailing her fingers over the bruises on her knuckles. Right, the fight with Christine that had been brewing over the last decade; she’d clocked that woman so hard in the nose when she’d finished agreeing to write the report on their wedding that Tony insisted had to be published right away.

A smile crossed her features when she remembered boarding the airplane with Tony and being unable to keep her hands off of him. If it weren’t for the fact that the flight back to Malibu had been so short, Syri was sure that they’d still be at each other right at this very moment. _Shit_ , there had been a camera at some point, hadn’t there? She was just going to have to find it and destroy it; God forbid that Tony get any ideas and get the pictures published somewhere. Turning over in the bed, the brunette frowned when she saw that Tony’s side of the bed was vacant. Clearing her throat, she sat up slowly and winced, reaching for the glass of water and bottle of aspirin sitting on the nightstand. “JARVIS?”

 _Good morning, Mrs. Stark_ —

“Whoa,” blinking a little, the brunette snorted. “ _That’s_ going to take some getting used to.”

_—is there something I can help you with?_

“Where’s Tony? Or should I not ask?”

_Mr. Stark is currently in the garage. May I extend my congratulations to you, Mrs. Stark?_

“You may, JARVIS,” Syri smiled faintly as she got up from the bed, swearing softly as her head throbbed while she looked for her clothes. “Thank you very much.”

Finding one of Tony’s robes, the young woman pulled it on and made her way towards the workshop, stopping in the kitchen along the way to grab a glass of juice. Taking the stairs one at a time, she peered through the glass door and punched in the code Tony had given her to use, frowning when the console declared it invalid. “What the fuck?”

“Morning, princess,” Tony called, looking oddly chipper as he came into view. “Code not working?”

“No. Why did you lock me out?”

“I didn’t. I just changed it. Think of any combination of numbers, and try again.”

“Tony,” shooting him a weary look, Syri almost pouted. “I can’t think right now.”

Laughing, the billionaire strolled over to the door, looking at her through the glass as he tapped his own code in and pulled the door open for her. “For future reference, your security code around the house will be my birthday.”

“Good to know.” Trading the glass of juice in her hand for the mug of coffee Tony held, Syri took a sip and allowed herself to be pulled into the garage, resting against the billionaire’s side with a grunt. “I feel like shit.”

“You look like hell, _Mrs. Stark_.” Tony chuckled, winding an arm around her to lead her over to one of the chairs. “That sounds a little weird, doesn’t it?”

“Extremely,” taking another sip of the coffee, Syri looked up and smiled faintly. “But I like it.”

“I’m glad. Because you went off for about twenty minutes last night about how you’d always said you’d never get married, and that you never thought you’d end up marrying a schmuck like me.”

“Oh _God_ , I _did_ , didn’t I?” Cringing, the younger woman shook her head. “I’m sorry. I was so damn drunk after the ceremony. I barely remember knocking Everhart’s nose job out of place.”

“I’m surprised you’re even awake, to be honest.” Brushing a bit of hair away from Syri’s face, Tony took a seat in the chair and pulled her down into his lap. “How’s your back, by the way? I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so wasted work a brass pole the way you did last night. _Where_ did you learn to do that?”

“Had to learn for a mission a few years ago,” Making a face, Syri continued to drink down Tony’s coffee. “I think it’s one of the few sexy things I can do without hurting myself.”

“That’s not true.”

“Tony, need I remind you that I fell off of a glass-top table that time you took me to Italy? Or that I trip over air on a regular basis when we’re getting into the bed?”

“I happen to find the way that you handle your tech _very_ sexy. And how disheveled you look when you haven’t slept in three days. Oh, and that face you make when you’re trying to keep up with me when we’re doing shots.” Chuckling at the look he’d just earned himself from the brunette, Tony planted a kiss to her cheek and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Suit’s completely finished now. There’s only one thing missing.”

“And what would that be?” Syri finished off the rest of the coffee and set the mug back on the desk.

“Power source,” Leaning back, Tony turned to fish through a nearby drawer. “Let me see your wrist. The left one.”

Raising a brow, the brunette held her wrist out to him, watching as Tony gently snapped a small bracelet around her wrist. Tapping a raised bit of metal on the side of the cuff, he smirked when the thing lit up a bright blue. Syri blinked and brought the thing closer to inspect it, looking back at Tony with a questioning gaze. “Is this…?”

“Arc Reactor Tech? Yeah. When you’ve got the suit on, just pull the sleeve through the cuff and turn it on. I’ve already tested it, but I’m going to need you to try it on later.” Turning the device off with another tap to the little button, Tony leaned back in his seat, looking extremely pleased with himself. Syriana knew he was waiting for her to praise him for his work. Instead, she just shot him a look and snorted, earning herself a frown from her new husband. “What?”

“You are so smug, you know that? I’m _amazed_ that head of yours even has room for your ego _and_ your brain.” Snickering, the brunette tapped the side of Tony’s head and kissed his cheek. “But I love it.”

“I know you do.” Smirking at her, the billionaire sighed and gave her hip a squeeze. “You ready to go back soon?”

“I don’t even get a honeymoon?” Syri pouted, running her fingers through Tony’s thick hair.

Eyeing her, the older man smiled slowly and tightened his arms around her waist. “All right. I’ll give you a honeymoon first, but then it’s back to work. We have a lot to do, princess.”

“What if I promise to practice with the suit while we’re taking that vacation?” The brunette tipped her head, curling up in Tony’s lap to rest her head against his. She smiled when he took hold of her hand and lightly kissed her bruised knuckles, planting a kiss of her own to the side of his head.

“Sounds like a deal to me, sweetheart. Now, why don’t we get dressed and get something to eat? We can discuss where we’ll take this vacation at the restaurant.”

“All right.” Nodding, Syri moved to get up from her spot when Tony held tight to her middle and kept her where she was. “Taplight, if I’m going to get dressed—”

“Can’t a man hold his wife for a few minutes before she runs off to get pretty?” He asked, raising a brow at her.

“I suppose a man can do whatever he wants,” smirking back, Syri stole a quick kiss and settled back against Tony’s chest. “Did you tell JARVIS about the wedding or did he hear about it from the internet?”

“I told him before we left. But he took it upon himself to start calling you Mrs. Stark.”

“That AI is becoming more and more human every day.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Tony made a face, then shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t start some sort of revolt against me, I think we’ll be all right.”

“You know, it _would_ be one of _your_ creations that started an uprising of Artificial Intelligence and robots alike. Can you imagine the suits coming out of their stations and wreaking havoc on the world?” Syri shuddered a little and ran her fingers through her hair. “Never mind. I _really_ don’t want to think about that.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Giving her leg a pat, Tony finally let her go. “All right. Up. Clothes. Food.”

“You want a Quickie before we call Happy?” Syri asked, hopping out of Tony’s lap to head for the stairs.

“Princess, you read my mind.” Tony grinned, following her.


	7. Anarchy

Syriana was not looking forward to this. She’d gotten a message from Fury asking her to come in to HQ as soon as she got back into town. He’d said it was to update her file due to her sudden marriage to Tony, but the brunette had a feeling that the man had _more_ he wanted to talk to her about. She and Tony had discussed the possibility that Fury would try to manipulate her into giving him the information on Tony that he wanted. After all, this decision was so _irrational_ and _sudden_ and probably the icing on the cake of crazy that Fury assumed Tony was making his life into. They’d spent hours planning what she would do while she was there, and Syri had practiced using the computerized second skin Tony had made for her. She knew exactly what she had to do in order to start a little bit of chaos of her own, and maybe steer the focus away from her husband a bit.

But _damn_ , she was nervous. She supposed one of the good things about being a Programmer for S.H.I.E.L.D was that she knew the ins and outs of the system, and she knew exactly how to avoid getting caught infiltrating the mainframe. Tony had done his best to make her feel a little better about the whole thing, telling her that they couldn’t pin anything that was going to happen, on her. She wasn’t going to touch a single computer while she was there, after all. She didn’t have to with the suit.

“JARVIS?” Syri glanced around as she rounded the corner of the street leading to HQ, taking off her sunglasses to tuck them neatly in the front of her blouse. Tony had fitted them with a tiny camera so he could keep watch of what was going on.

_Yes, Mrs. Stark?_

“Just checking to make sure you’re still with me.”

_Now would be a good time to activate the suit, Mrs. Stark._

“Are you sure?” Syri asked, reaching to tuck the sleeve of the suit beneath the bracelet on her wrist.

_Mr. Stark has advised this, yes._

“All right,” taking a breath, Syri pressed the little button on the bracelet and raised an eyebrow when she felt the odd flood of heat run through the suit. She still hadn’t gotten used to the sensation, no matter how long she’d spent wearing the thing. “It’s on.”

Making sure to wait the full five minutes for the suit to power up, Syri walked up to the glass doors leading to S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters and licked her lips before heading in. She honestly wasn’t sure where she was supposed to go from here. Fury had wanted her to see him in order to get the information changed, but the man was nowhere in sight.

“De Luca,” the sound of a bitter, familiar voice made Syri’s hair stand on end. “Or should I say, _Stark?_ ”

“Brian,” Syri turned to face the redhead, pleased to see that he looked less than happy at the moment. He must’ve seen the article Miss Everhart had printed. “Good afternoon.”

“I guess _congratulations_ are in order,” the man muttered, looking her over.

“It’s not necessary.” Smirking at him, the brunette raised an eyebrow. “Do you know where I’m supposed to meet the Director to get my paperwork changed?”

“Come with me.” Without sparing the woman another glance, Brian led her down the long corridor, stopping just in front of a door Syri _knew_ didn’t lead to Fury’s office. In fact, she wasn’t even sure she’d ever been to this side of the building before. “Wait here,”

Nodding to the redhead, Syri watched him slide his pass through the security device beside the door, wondering when he’d been issued a new one. Well, her plan to use the one she’d swiped from him the last time she’d been here was not going to work anymore. No matter; she and Tony had a backup. When the man had disappeared through the door, the brunette shifted her gaze to the security camera aimed at her from the corner. She knew she couldn’t whisper to JARVIS if she didn’t want to be found out. She could only hope that Tony was still on the other end of things, running the program she’d set up for him over the weekend. If everything went according to plan, S.H.I.E.L.D was going to get an extremely rude awakening.

“Take it easy, princess,” Tony’s voice came through the little speaker in her ear and nearly made her jump out of her skin. “Try not to look so nervous.”

Breathing out a heavy breath, Syri rubbed her nose and muttered back, “Easy for you to say.”

“Be quiet.” He chuckled in her ear. “You’ll do fine.”

Syriana didn’t say anything more as the door opened in front of her to reveal Brian and Nick Fury. Looking to the Director expectantly, she nearly smirked at the sour look on his face. He seemed even more irritated than Brian did. Good.  Maybe now he’d understand that she wasn’t going to put up with his shit when it came to Tony.

“Agent Stark,” the man nodded in greeting and dismissed Brian before he waved her into the room. “Have a seat.”

Looking around, Syri couldn’t help feeling as though she’d just stepped into an interrogation room. The walls were solid steel, and the only pieces of furniture inside were a set of chairs and a single table. There was a camera in the corner, she noticed, and she chose the chair that was farthest away from it. Clearing her throat, she rested her hands on the table and raised an eyebrow. “Have you got the paperwork for me?”

“We’ll get to that in a minute.” Studying her, Fury folded his hands behind his back and sighed. “Agent Romanoff says you still refuse to help us. I’m curious to know whether or not your sudden marriage to Stark has anything to do with that.”

“Director, you were aware of my engagement to Tony.” Drumming her fingertips against the top of the table, the brunette frowned. “Did Agent Romanoff tell you she used excess force to try and get me to submit to the idea of helping you investigate my husband?”

“I told Agent Romanoff to use any means necessary to convince you.” Shifting his eye to examine the stitches above Syri’s brow and what remained of the bruises on her face, the man cleared his throat. “She claims you pulled a weapon on her.”

“I did, sir.” Syri laced her fingers together to keep from fidgeting too much. She could hear Tony breathing on the other end of the bud in her ear and prayed he wasn’t going to get pissed off and come down here. She needed time for the virus to permeate the electronic receivers in the building; he had to be there to push the button when the time was right.

“She also claims you threatened to take your own life.” Director Fury seemed genuinely concerned at this point, but Syri didn’t buy it. The man was a damn good liar; he wasn’t going to convince her that he actually cared. “How have you been with your medication, Mrs. Stark?”

“My medication has nothing to do with my actions, Director Fury.” Sitting up straighter in her chair, Syri fixed him with a hard look. “I told you before; I want nothing to do with this.”

“You’re the only source we have that is close enough to Tony Stark to get us the information we need.”

“And what information would _that_ be, Director? You claim you need my help, but you won’t tell me _what for_. Pardon me, sir, but I am not so foolish that I’d go rushing into a Mission blind.”

“Funny, I thought that’s what you did best?”

“If you’re speaking of the incident with Jesse, you already _know_ he conned me into that.” Syri narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like being reminded of _that_ particular mistake. “I was young, and I was stupid. I was also under the impression that you had cleared the mission, sir.”

“You trusted Jesse, didn’t you Agent Stark?” Fury started to pace in front of the table, pivoting on his heel to retrace his steps whenever he got to the edge of the room. “If I’m to go by the rumors that were around the office then, I daresay you _loved_ him, is that correct?”

Syriana did not like where this was going. But instead of shrinking into herself the way she wanted to, she kept her head up and shrugged lightly. “At one point in my life, I did, sir.”

“And you trust Stark as well?”

“I wouldn’t have married him if I didn’t.”

“You trust that he won’t lead you astray the way that Jesse did?”

“What is this about, Director? I was told to come down here so I could get my name changed on my paperwork. Nowhere in your message did it say I was going to be interrogated about my relationship with Tony.” Narrowing her eyes, the younger woman leaned back in the chair and folded her arms over her chest, careful to mind the sunglasses dangling from the neck of her blouse. She didn’t want to cut off the feed for Tony.

“You are not being _interrogated_ , Agent Stark.” Director Fury never stopped his pacing as he turned his head to look at her. “Please, answer the question.”

“Tony wouldn’t do that to me.” Syri bit out, scowling at the man before her. “Tony has no ill intent towards me the way Jesse did. I’d sooner believe that Brian would lead me into danger before Tony did.”

“Speaking of Agent Harris,” a faint smirk crossed Fury’s lips. “You attacked him the last time I called you down here.”

“He was touching me in an inappropriate manner. My actions were justified.” The brunette seemed to shudder at the memory of Brian putting his hands on her. “I’d do it again if he ever had the nerve to touch me again. I’ve complained to you on several occasions about harassment from that man, yet you did nothing about it. Surely you watch the security feeds around here, Director. You can’t stand there and tell me that you’ve _never_ witnessed Agent Harris’ inappropriate behavior.”

“Harris has already been reprimanded for his actions, Agent Stark.”

“You gave him a slap on the wrist for a repeated offense.” Syri was trying her hardest to keep the venom out of her voice, and she was quickly losing her composure. Fury was _trying_ to tear her down; she knew that the moment he’d started bringing up Jesse. And there was nothing she could do about it except sit here and try to play it off like he wasn’t getting to her. But as the seconds ticked by and he continued to spew the bullshit from his mouth, the closer she was getting to flipping the table in front of her and storming out. Fuck the job. Fuck the plan. None of it was worth being put through the grinder like this. Even Tony had to be seething at this point.

“He attended the required seminars, and he passed.”

Licking her lips, Syri turned her gaze away from the Director for a few seconds before letting out a harsh breath. “I would like to fill out my change-of-name papers, sir. And then I would like to go _home_.”

“Did you not want to know what we’re investigating your husband for?”

“At this point, I don’t care.” Crossing her legs beneath the table, the fixed the man in front of her with an irritated look. “I doubt it’s going to make me change my mind anyway. I won’t help you investigate my husband. I don’t care what reasons you have.”

Nodding some, Fury moved to walk over to the table, opening a drawer to extract a file. Dropping it in front of Syriana, he pointed at it and shot her a look. “Take a peek at that, Mrs. Stark. Then tell me whether or not you want to help us.”

Eyeballing the folder in front of her, Syri chewed her tongue for a moment before she slid it closer and opened it. Flipping through a few pages, she squinted at the text that talked about how Tony’s more recent missions had a steadily climbing casualty count. He was using more force than necessary, apparently, and refusing to own up to his actions. For the last few months, he’d stopped answering calls unless he felt like it –which didn’t surprise her. Tony was independent as far as he was concerned. He didn’t _need_ to be told what missions to take and which to ignore. Pausing when she got to a page describing his sudden mental decline in recent months, Syri knit her brows together when she read the words _increasingly self destructive_ and _suicidal_.  Checking the dates on the therapist’s notes, she felt her gut grow cold when she saw that these things had started around the time she’d broken off their engagement.

So, she’d been right. _She_ was the reason for Tony’s odd behavior. But if Fury thought this was going to convince her that she needed to help S.H.I.E.L.D with this _mission_ , he had another thing coming. She’d started to close the file when she spotted another note near the bottom of a page, leaning in to read the barely legible scrawl of the therapist who’d written it.

_Stark displays signs of mental distress, and increased thoughts of graphic violence and vengeance. Stark claims to feel as though he’s **not in** **control** anymore. The idea of putting on the Iron Man suit has become more of a burden to him as of late. He is reporting vivid nightmares that take him back to Afghanistan. One particularly disturbing dream seems to have put him on edge; he says he is dreaming of violating and dismembering his ex-fiancée. When he wakes from these dreams, he is in a state of mind that is hard to decipher. He claims it feels euphoric, but he wants to be sick at the same time. Therapist recommends adding anti-psychotics to his daily regimen of medication._

Taking in a deep breath, Syri stared at the note for a long time, ignoring the look she was getting from Fury. At first, she wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this. She knew Tony had been having nightmares a lot lately. Shit, he’d been having them longer than she’d known him. Afghanistan wasn’t the only incident that left scars on Tony’s mind; he had nightmares about his father, about the day his parents died. These things were just as much a part of him as the reactor was. They were tiny pieces that fit into the puzzle that made up Tony Stark, and Syriana had accepted that a long time ago. She wouldn’t say she wasn’t disturbed slightly by the idea that Tony was dreaming about eviscerating her, she just wasn’t convinced that _this_ was why Fury chose her to help.

Picking up the sheet of paper, Syri frowned when she noticed that unlike the rest of the page, the note from the therapist appeared to be written in pen ink. Licking the tip of her finger, she ran it down the page and watched as the handwritten text smeared. This wasn’t something that had been photocopied from Tony’s file. Sure enough, it matched the handwriting from the other notes given, but this had been added as a last minute decision and the brunette had a feeling she knew why. Finally lifting her gaze to meet Fury’s, the brunette shoved the file away from her, watching as it flew off of the desk and fell at the man’s feet in a messy pile.

“Go fuck yourself, Director Fury.” She snapped, getting out of the chair. “Forging an entry to make me believe that my husband dreams of murdering me is _sick_. You know what? I don’t care if you never hire me back on again. You can keep the programs and the tech that I created for you. Store it away on a locked sector and reopen my criminal record if you want. I’ll fight it, and I’ll _win_.”

“Agent Stark—”

“Let me out of this room,” Syri demanded, walking around the desk to head for the door. “You’ve wasted enough of my time today, sir.”

“—I admit that the file was added to before your arrival. We thought it would be for your own good if you knew just what your _husband_ has been going through.”

“ _I know **exactly** what my husband has been going through!_ ” Syriana had to fight to keep her hands to herself and not attempt to deck the man standing in front of her. He could easily overpower her, and any wrong move could either reveal the fact that she was wearing the computer suit, or get her seriously injured. “Do you think I would have married him if I was oblivious to _any_ of this?”

“I think you would do anything to protect him, Mrs. Stark.” Fury folded his hands behind his back again, looking almost nonchalant as he stared the younger woman down. “You told Agent Romanoff that you were more than willing to blow your own head off to do just that.”

“I didn’t marry Tony to protect him from you, Director Fury.” Syri’s voice trembled with rage as she stepped closer to the door and reached for the knob. “I married him because I love him. Now, _open the fucking door_ and let me out, _sir_.”

Letting out a sigh, Fury looked to the camera in the corner and nodded. The lock in the door clicked and Syri wasted no time yanking it open to storm out. She ignored the looks she was getting from other agents as she stomped her way back down the hall to the front of the building and murmured, seemingly to herself, “Execute Project R, JARVIS.”

_As you wish, ma’am._

X+X+X+X

Tony sat in front of his worktable, still staring at the computer screen in front of him with the picture frozen on the paper Syriana had been reading so intently. He couldn’t believe Fury had gone so far as to tell her about the dreams, as if it were anyone else’s business but his own. He was going to kill that therapist, too. Confidentiality agreement, his ass. This had to be breaking so many laws and moral codes and whatever the hell else therapists believed in. Tony sure as hell wouldn’t be going back to that bastard. Or any other hundred-dollar-an-hour quack, for that matter.

Leaning back in his seat to rub his hands over his face, Tony just barely caught the end of Syriana telling JARVIS to go ahead and start flooding the system with the corrupted code. Well, it was nice to know that his wife wasn’t going to take these dreams seriously. Even Tony had figured they were the result of some serious stress that the initial breakup had brought about. He didn’t really believe in reading into dreams too much, anyway. All the mumbo-jumbo he’d heard about them being doorways to repressed feelings seemed like bullshit to him, so what was the point? As he watched the scenery on the camera change from the inside of S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters, to the street just outside, he reached over to tap the button Syri had instructed him to, and cleared his throat to speak.

“Princess?”

“Not now, Tony,” she snapped. “I can’t… I’m not in the right mood to talk about this right now.”

“I was just letting you know that the program is running. They should be losing power in about ten minutes.”

“Good. I hope the whole fuckin’ place goes into complete disarray.”

“Are you angry with me?”

The camera feed stopped moving and Tony could hear Syriana blowing out a heavy breath before she spoke again. “No, Taplight. I am not mad at you. I’m mad at Fury. _You_ cannot control what you dream about. Besides, it isn’t like I’ve never had dreams like that about _you_.”

“You’ve had dreams about killing me?”

“Once or twice,” the camera was moving again, faster now. “I… gotta cool down before I come home. I think I’m going to stop by the penthouse for a few things, if that’s all right with you.”

“It’s fine, princess. Just, uh, come back when you feel better, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Keep an eye on that code for me. Let me know if there are any problems.”

“Will do. Talk to you later, princess.”

“Bye.” There was the muffled sound of Syri taking the bud out of her ear, and the click of it being shut off. As he swayed absently in his chair, Tony contemplated going back to work on his own tech. After all, he needed something to occupy his mind until Syri came home, and he didn’t want to get stuck dealing with his rampant thoughts. It was bad enough that he was already starting to get angry over this; he didn’t want to blow up in a huge Tony-tantrum and end up breaking something he couldn’t replace.

What he really wanted to do was go down to S.H.I.E.L.D and ring Fury’s neck. But considering he was supposed to be playing dumb here, with no idea at all that Syri had been tapped for such a ludicrous assignment, that wasn’t a very good idea.

_Sir, Project R infiltration is complete. Closing the line now._

“Thanks buddy,” Tony mumbled, finally getting up from his chair to head for the door. If he was going to lose himself in his work, he needed more food, coffee and scotch. “Let me know when everything goes to hell, will you?”

_I shall, sir._

“JARVIS?” Pausing on his way out, the billionaire frowned lightly and raised an eyebrow at the empty workshop. “Do you think she blames herself?”

_I’m afraid I cannot provide you with that information, sir. My sincerest apologies._

“Right. Not quite human. Can’t read… right. Thanks anyway.”

_Will that be all, sir?_

“For now, yeah. Just keep tabs on what’s going on for me. Let me know if there are any problems.” With that, Tony wandered out of the workshop to get the things he needed, hoping in the back of his mind that Syriana _didn’t_ blame herself for what he’d become. This had been years in the making;  while he wouldn’t go so far as to say that she _didn’t_ have a slight bit of involvement, the outcome of years of verbal abuse from his father topped off with Post-Traum and other delectable psychologically fucked up goodies, were really to blame here. He’d been screwed from the get go, it seemed. Blessed with a mind far more advanced than most, and privileged enough to have gotten a chance to prove it; he just hadn’t been dealt a decent hand of cards when it came to the rest of his life. Oh sure, he had drawn a few good ones from the deck, but the rest were threatening to force him to fold. And God only knew what would come of that when it happened.

X+X+X+X

Syri had never been so happy to be rid of her clothing before. The moment she’d stepped into the penthouse, she’d started tearing off the blouse and fancy slacks to get at the computerized suit beneath them. The thing was tight and too warm for her comfort, and she really didn’t want to wait to get back to the tower to peel it off. The reactor bracelet had long since been turned off, since she no longer needed the thing to be active. Unzipping the back of the suit, she tugged it off as carefully as she could, draping it over a chair before removing the bracelet and putting it into her purse. Now that she could breathe again, the brunette figured she might as well get a shower in before she started gathering up her things.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d read in Tony’s file as she wandered through the huge penthouse to get to the bathroom. She wasn’t so much troubled by his dreams as she was the fact that he’d been _suicidal_ and hadn’t said anything to her about it yet. Then again, she supposed she couldn’t really be upset with him. She’d hidden things like that from him in the past, but unlike Tony, she always seemed to slip up and let these facts come to light. Tony was like a locked safe of repressed emotions; never sharing if he didn’t feel like it, and certainly never breaking down enough to confess to any of the horrible things he harbored. He’d hide this from her until the end of his life, and there wasn’t a Goddamn thing she could do about it.

Turning the shower on, Syri reached in to check the water temperature before stepping in, hissing at the hot water running down her back. Part of her didn’t want to be in this place; she hadn’t been back since Gabriel had died, with the exception of going with Happy to pick up clothes and such over the last few weeks. She’d thought about asking Tony if she could just rent the place out to someone else so she didn’t have to worry about ever having to set foot in it again, but she kind of wanted to have somewhere she could run to if she ever needed it. Who was she kidding? Of course she was going to need it. No matter how well she and Tony were getting along right now, there was always going to be a time when they were at each other’s throats, and she didn’t think she could handle being in the same house with him when she was mad at him.

Sighing to herself, Syri looked around for the shampoo she knew she’d left here, and tensed when she thought she heard something move on the other side of the penthouse. Staring through the fogged up glass door, she waited to see signs of movement in the hallway, cursing herself for not shutting the bathroom door. After a few minutes of just standing beneath the spray of the showerhead, she figured she must’ve just been hearing things and went back to what she’d been doing. She had a slight problem with auditory hallucinations sometimes, though the medication she was taking was supposed to help with that. Scrubbing the shampoo through her hair, the brunette closed her eyes and let her mind wander to the virus she and Tony had set loose on the S.H.I.E.L.D computers. Project R would lock out pretty much every agent on staff at the time, and send classified files to random emails around the world. It was a genius piece of work, if she were to say so herself, and she figured it was also relatively harmless.

It wasn’t meant to do _too_ much damage, really, though there was always the risk of a zero being out of place and creating something that could easily wipe the entire database clean. S.H.I.E.L.D would be screwed then; they kept paper copies of nearly everything they had on file –a habit that Fury had developed when he’d first formed the organization- but it would take months, years even, to restore all of the information. It would serve them right if something like that happened. For all the grief they’d put her through, and all of the lies that they’d told Tony –not that he was even _aware_ of the lies- they’d definitely deserve it. Rinsing the suds from her hair, Syri shut the water off and grabbed her towel from the rack just outside of the door, wrapping it around herself before venturing into her bedroom for something to wear. She was hungry, she realized as she pulled on a pair of jeans and an old tee-shirt of Tony’s she’d stolen at some point. But there wasn’t going to be any food in the kitchen. She hardly kept food in there to begin with, and she’d already chucked out everything that had gone green while she’d been staying with Tony.

Figuring she could just order from the pizza place down the street, Syri wandered back to the main room for her cell phone, toweling her hair along the way. Grabbing her phone from her purse, she sifted through a stack of papers on the table in the front hall for the number of the place, and paused when she heard the creak of a floorboard just down the hall. She almost wanted to shake it off as another hallucination, but even with her fragile mental state, it was _rare_ for this to happen to her. It usually took some kind of trauma to bring things like this out, and while she could probably consider what she’d discovered at S.H.I.E.L.D to be _shocking_ , it certainly wasn’t enough to rattle her brain into thinking there was someone there when it wasn’t so.

Gripping her cell phone in her hand, ready to call for help if she needed it, Syri swiped a letter opener from the table and slowly stalked towards the source of the sound. Looking around for any signs that something was out of place in the house, she frowned when she couldn’t find anything at all. Maybe she _was_ just hearing things. The building creaked all the time, after all, and being on the top floor gave her the disadvantage of hearing a lot of these little groans. She figured it had to be the water heater; she _had_ just gotten out of the shower after all. And that thing liked to make a ruckas for at least an hour after she was done. Maybe she’d just spent so much time at Tony’s lately that she’d forgotten all about that fact. Shaking her head at herself for being ridiculous, she tossed the letter opener back onto the table and dialed the number for the pizza place.

She never got past the first ring when a set of hands grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth. A second set came to the aid of the first when she started screaming and trying to get free. From the corner of her eye, she spotted the glint of light shining off of something metal; a needle. The hand wielding the syringe led to an arm clothed in a rather _nice_ Armani suit, and as her eyes travelled higher, Syriana felt her heart drop into her stomach. A familiar set of kind blue eyes stared at her, the corners crinkling with a smile as the man sighed and reached to take hold of one of her arms.

“This will only sting for a second,” the ghost from her past whispered, lowering the needle to her skin.

Syriana tried her hardest to jerk away from the needle, but it was no use. Biting the fingers of the person covering her mouth, the brunette discovered it was far too late to scream by the time her teeth penetrated the thick leather gloves and forced him to take his hand away. The drugs that were in the syringe were already coursing through her, and as everything started to blur and turn black, Syri could only loll her head to look at the smiling blue eyed ghost as two tears slowly rolled down her cheeks and left ice cold trails in their wake.

“Phil…”

 


	8. Compromised

The only inclination of time Tony had was the refrigerator in the workshop. He usually kept up to ten sandwiches inside of it at a time, eating at least one every hour. The fact that he’d somehow managed to eat through all ten while the time passed unchecked around him wasn’t surprising in the least. What _was_ surprising to him was that his new wife hadn’t come in to the workshop yet. He figured she was worn out from her meeting with Fury, and had probably gone straight to bed after she got home, but it wasn’t like her to not make an appearance even for a few minutes. As he rubbed the bleariness from his eyes and moved away from the repairs he was doing to one of the bots, the billionaire searched for a clock and grumbled when none of the screens hovering around the room displayed the time. “JARVIS?”

_Sir?_

“Time check.”

_It is four-nineteen in the morning, sir._

Jesus Christ, he’d been working longer than he thought. Yawning widely, the brunet pressed his palms to his tired eyes and sank back in the chair. “You think Syriana’s mad I’m not in bed with her yet?”

_I have no record of Mrs. Stark returning to the Tower, sir._

“ _What?_ ” The sleepiness seemed to drain out of him in an instant as he looked around the otherwise empty workshop. “What the hell do you mean she isn’t back, JARVIS?”

_Her access card has not been used since her departure this afternoon, sir._

“Call her,” Getting up from his seat, Tony stalked towards the door, yanking it open hard enough to make it bounce off of the wall. “ _Now_ , JARVIS.”

_I’m afraid the line is busy, sir. I cannot—_

“Mute,” Stopping in the middle of the main room, Tony looked around as though he thought he’d find the woman asleep on the couch or something. Raking his fingers through his hair, he swore under his breath and shook his head. Something wasn’t right; he knew Syriana had been upset after leaving S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters, but she’d _said_ she was coming home. She’d wanted to stop by the penthouse for something, he remembered that. Maybe she’d fallen asleep there? Gnawing at the inside of his lip, Tony snatched his keys off of the table near the elevator and pushed the button to open the doors. Taking his cell out of his pocket, he punched in a number and waited as it rang.

“Hogan,” he barked into the phone, wishing the elevator would move faster. “Did you take Syri to the penthouse this afternoon? …you haven’t heard from her at _all?_ Fuck. No, no that’s all, Happy. Thanks. Go back to sleep.”

Hanging up on Happy, Tony didn’t know quite what to do as he put the phone away and stared at the metal doors in front of him. Was she angry with him for not telling her about the dreams he’d had? She’d never expressed any anger towards him whenever he kept his bullshit to himself before, but maybe now that they were married, was she expecting him to tell her _everything?_ Shit, even she had things she was keeping from him. It didn’t take a genius to figure _that_ out. But they both seemed content to know that the other had a plethora of unspoken words that they wouldn’t share with anyone; marriage wouldn’t change that.

Stepping out of the lift, the billionaire marched right past the man sitting behind the security desk without so much as a look in his direction. It was cold out on the near empty street, and Tony felt an odd chill run up the back of his neck as he headed to where his car was parked. His stomach churned as he hoped in the back of his mind that Syriana would just be passed out at the penthouse. He didn’t want to think about what he’d do if he found the place empty. Shaking the dark thoughts from his mind, Tony climbed into the car and jammed the key into the ignition, tearing off down the street at a speed that would surely get him a ticket.

X+X+X+X

Syriana felt like shit. Her whole body ached and her stomach felt as though it was being twisted into knots. She had no idea where she was as she picked her head off of a dirty floor and looked around. Her vision was a little blurry, and the room was small and dimly lit without a trace of furniture or even a window. Sitting up slowly, she pressed her forehead into her palm and inhaled sharply to keep from throwing up all over the place. Bad idea.

The stench of something like rotting meat hit her nose and Syri started to gag. As nauseous as she was, nothing more than bile hit the floor in front of her; she hadn’t eaten today, thankfully. But that didn’t stop the horrible clenching of her stomach as she coughed and tried to take in a breath that wasn’t filled with that smell. Finally finding enough sense to cover her mouth and nose with her shirt, Syri sat back against a nearby wall and tried to seek out the source of the smell. It had to be coming in through the vents; there was nothing else in this room with her.

Closing her eyes against the splitting headache pounding in her skull, the brunette tried to remember what the hell had happened. She remembered being at the penthouse, but everything else was too blurry for her to comprehend. She wondered if Tony had noticed she wasn’t home yet. Was he looking for her? Would he know where to go? Because she certainly had no idea where the fuck she was. But that smell… something about the smell of the room seemed to spark a memory she’d tried so hard to suppress; the slaughterhouse.

_No_. There was no way in hell she was back at that place. How would she have gotten here anyway? They’d torn the building down after S.H.I.E.L.D had rescued her. Wait, no. It was after Michael had been taken, when she had gone to Tony practically begging him to help her find her brother. The repulsors had totaled the place, and a wrecking ball had taken care of the rest. The idea that she was back at that place seemed absurd.

“You’re awake,”

Syriana flinched horribly at the voice that echoed in the small room, looking up with wide eyes at the figure she hadn’t even heard approaching. She jumped again when a bright light flicked on overhead, revealing her to be in a stark white room. There was a bed in one corner, and a sink just in front of it. It almost resembled a jail cell, now that she thought about it. The smell was gone now, too; funny how the dark could play tricks on her mind. Letting her eyes go back to the person standing in front of her, the urge to be sick creeped up on her again.

“Phil?” Syri shrank back against the wall as she stared at the smiling man.

“How are you feeling?” Phil stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. Syriana didn’t get the chance to see what was on the other side of that door. She was too busy trying to keep herself from throwing up again.

“Sick,” the brunette groaned, lolling her head back against the wall. “Can I have some water?”

“Of course,” With a smile, Phil produced a bottle of water and twisted the cap off. Syri watched him carefully as he held it out to her, still unable to believe it was him. He’d _died_ several years ago, hadn’t he? Then again, S.H.I.E.L.D was notorious for taking their own agents off of the radar for various reasons. Still, it bothered her to be face to face with him after all of the time she’d spent mourning him.

Taking a few sips of the water, she set the bottle beside her and ran her fingers through her hair. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe.” He smiled faintly, folding his hands behind his back.

“What do you mean _safe?_ Where’s Tony?”

“Tony?” The man looked confused.

“Tony. Tony _Stark_. My husband? Where is he?”

This made Phil knit his brows together, like he was concerned for her suddenly. Shaking his head, the older man crouched down in front of her and rested his hands on her knees. “Syriana, you’re not married. You’ve never met Tony Stark.”

“That’s… not true.” She shook her head, picking up the bottle of water just to give her hands something to do. She paused when she noticed that her ring finger was bare. The gorgeous ring Tony had given her just a week ago, was gone. “Where’s my ring?”

“You never had one.” Reaching out, Phil rested a hand against Syri’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling well, Syri?”

The brunette didn’t know how to answer that question. Physically, she was all right. But her mind was reeling at the idea that she’d somehow _fabricated_ everything. It wasn’t possible, was it? Could the last three years of her life all been a product of her own mind? Taking a long drink of the water, Syri curled away from Phil and rubbed at her forehead. The headache was getting worse, but she didn’t want to ask for anything to cure it.

“Agent De Luca?”

“We got married in Vegas.” She mumbled, staring at the floor as she tried to think back to what had been happening over the last few weeks. “We went to Italy for the honeymoon. It started with an affair, Phil. It _happened_.”

The man crouched nearby sighed, shaking his head lightly. “Syri, you’ve been here the whole time.”

“No, no that’s not _possible_.” Syri rested a hand on her throat as she felt it start to tighten. “I want to see him. I want to talk to Tony. Please, Phil,”

“I’ll see what I can do, but Mr. Stark is not our biggest fan.” Rising to his full height, Phil attempted a small smile and headed for the door. “Get some rest, Syriana.”

“How can I?” She whispered after he’d left. “How can I be expected to sleep?”

X+X+X+X

Tony felt strange as he stood in the middle of the penthouse living room, looking around at the empty place. There were signs that Syri had been here at some point during the day; her computer suit had been left draped over a chair, with her purse and the reactor bracelet resting beside it. There was a towel in the hallway, and he’d found her cell phone on the floor near the entryway. But none of it made sense. What the hell had happened here? He wished he’d been allowed to install the security cameras for her in this place. But she’d been insistent that she didn’t need them. Nobody was going to try and break in, especially when she already had a pretty good alarm system. _That_ was another thing that bothered Tony. Syriana usually set that alarm the moment she got into the house, and she never left without making sure it was armed. She had too much expensive equipment to just leave the penthouse unarmed all the time.

He was in the middle of rubbing his hand over his face when he spotted something glinting up at him from the carpet. Kneeling down to pick it up, Tony felt like he might be sick when he realized he was holding Syriana’s wedding ring. His first thought was that she’d taken it off and just left. She’d gotten fed up for some reason, and _left._ But that didn’t feel logical to him. She’d been so happy with him over the last few weeks, in between her odd little mood swings. She wouldn’t do that to him. Syriana wasn’t the kind of woman who would just _leave_ without a reason. She had a fetish for sticking it to people and putting them in their places before she made an exit; if she’d intended to leave him, she would have raised a big stink over it first.

That only meant that she’d been _taken_. But by whom? Who the hell would want to take his wife? And why, for that matter. Syriana wasn’t a threat to anyone, for the most part. She was a good woman. Sure, she had her moments, but didn’t everybody? Shaking his head as he swore, Tony mulled over whether or not he ought to call in a Missing Persons report or not. The cops around here weren’t much help, considering people went missing pretty regularly, but maybe they’d treat it as a special case because he was who he was. Tugging at his hair in frustration, Tony ground his teeth a little and looked around the penthouse once more for any signs that there had been someone else in the house other than his wife. When he came up empty handed after the third or fourth sweep, the billionaire wandered down into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. He couldn’t go out looking for her by himself; the city was too huge for that. He thought about calling Rhodey or Steve for help, but what would he tell them? That Syri had gone missing after her meeting with Fury and he didn’t know whether or not she was actually missing, or had just decided she didn’t want to be part of his life anymore? 

His head perked up as a thought sparked in his brain. _S.H.I.E.L.D_. Maybe they’d detected the suit while she was there and they’d taken her in for questioning. There was a good chance Syri would have put up a struggle, though. After the meeting with Fury, she’d made it pretty clear that the only way they were going to get her to come back, was kicking and screaming. He had to get home, to see if JARVIS could hack the security feed. Maybe then, he’d be able to get some answers. Getting up from the bed, Tony gathered up the suit and Syri’s purse before he left.

X+X+X+X

Syriana had no idea how long she’d been lying on the stiff cot she’d been provided. Honestly, being stuck in this room made her nervous; it was almost like being in jail. There were no windows, just vents that blew in cold air from time to time. She couldn’t hear anything on the other side of the door, so when it suddenly swung open and Phil stepped in with a tray of food and a little paper cup of pills, it made her jump and nearly fall from the cot.

“Still awake?” Phil smiled faintly, coming over to set the tray on the sink. Picking up the little cup, he held it out to her and shook it. “These should help.”

“What are they?” Taking the cup, Syri poked the pills with a fingertip. She thought she recognized the little purple ones, but the others were foreign to her.

“Your medication. Your file says you’re on quite a few.”

“These don’t look like my pills.”

Phil only seemed to smile wider. “I assure you, Syriana, those are the same medications we have on file.”

“Right,” looking the pills over again, the brunette sighed and picked up the water bottle, popping the pills into her mouth before chasing them with some of the water. “Have you talked to Tony?”

“I’m afraid Mr. Stark is unavailable to come in at the moment. I’ve left a message with his assistant, but I can’t promise anything.” Nudging the tray towards her, Phil took a step back. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

Taking a peek at the sandwich that sat on the tray, Syri felt her heart clench. Turkey and cheddar on white. The same kind of sandwich Tony kept in the fridge just for her.  Shaking her head, she sat back on the bed and picked at the scratchy blanket beneath her. “No thank you.”

“What’s on your mind, Syriana?”

“I just don’t understand this, Phil. You’re telling me that I never met Tony, let alone married him, yet my memories say different.” Heaving a sigh, the brunette curled up and raised an eyebrow. “Can I have a cigarette?”

“You started smoking again?” Phil produced an unopened pack of cigarettes from his front pocket, handing them over with a cheap lighter. “I thought Jesse made you quit?”

“Jesse’s _dead_ , Phil.” _Just like **you’re** supposed to be_. “He died in the slaughterhouse. You know that.”

“Of course, I simply meant that I was under the impression that you’d kicked the habit for good.”

“Old habits are hard to break.” Shrugging, Syri lit up one of the cigarettes, cringing at the stale taste. “You never told me where it is I am.”

“You’re in one of our mental health facilities. You had a major setback earlier this month. This is the first time I’ve seen you coherent.”

Syriana stared at Phil, not daring to blink even once. Part of her couldn’t believe it. Though, it _would_ explain a few things. Taking in a deep breath, she flicked the ash from her cigarette to the floor and frowned. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t present for it.”

“Could I ask Director Fury?”

“I can try to get him down here, sure. But I’m not sure how much help he’ll be, Syriana.”

“Right,” nodding, the brunette swallowed hard and ran her fingers through her hair. None of this was adding up at all. The only memories she could recall over the past few weeks, were the ones with Tony in them. But, if Phil was right and she’d had some kind of mental relapse, then there was a good chance that none of it had ever happened at all. But _why_ would she be thinking these things? Why would her mind trick her into thinking she had gone through this huge relationship with a man she apparently had never met in person before? She didn’t know a damn thing about psychology, and all of this thinking was making her head hurt. She just wanted to lie down and sleep it all off. Maybe she’d get her answers in the morning.

Reaching to put the cigarette out in the sink, Syri took another look over at Phil and moved to lie down on the bed. “I’d like to sleep, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Phil smiled, coming over to pat her shoulder gently. “I promise, Syriana. I’ll do my very best to help you get back on your feet. We need you out there.”

The brunette only nodded as she dragged the uncomfortable blanket over her form and rested her head against the stiff pillow. She watched Phil leave the room, almost asking him to leave the light on so she wouldn’t be in complete darkness. She’d grown so used to the light from Tony’s reactor, that being in pitch darkness made her uncomfortable. At least, that’s what she remembered, anyway. Sighing quietly, she turned over onto her back and stared blankly up at the ceiling. She could feel the pills working their way through her system, making her drowsy until she finally closed her eyes and settled in to sleep. She would get things figured out tomorrow. At least, she hoped so.

X+X+X+X

Tony’s eyes hurt as he sat staring at one of the halo-screens. He’d been here for so long now, that he was honestly shocked he hadn’t fallen asleep. It’d taken a long time before JARVIS could access the S.H.I.E.L.D surveillance system, even after the hack-job done with the computer suit, and the billionaire had stayed glued to his seat with his phone in his hand just in case Syri happened to call. He’d been sifting through hours of footage, downing too many cups of coffee in an effort to fight off the urge to sleep. _Finally_ , he reached a part of the tape where Syriana could clearly be seen going into the building. Tony remembered this from his own video footage taken with the camera in Syri’s sunglasses. Fast forwarding it to her departure, Tony froze the frame when he noticed something strange in the corner of the video.

Nick Fury stood near the hallway with a walkie near his mouth as his one good eye followed the brunette out of the building. Tony cursed at the fact that the video feed didn’t have any audio. He wanted to know what the hell it was Fury was telling the person on the other side of the walkie. He figured he could always run JARVIS’s lip reading program, but it wasn’t one hundred percent accurate. For all he knew, Fury was ordering someone to bring him a cup of coffee or something.

Leaning back in his seat, completely exhausted, Tony started to rub a hand over his face and paused when another familiar face appeared on the screen. Steve walked right up to Fury, shook his hand, and disappeared down the hallway Syri had come from.

“Son of a bitch.” Leaping up from his chair, Tony staggered to the door leading out of the workshop and headed for the elevator. He instantly kicked himself for not calling Steve earlier. Maybe the man didn’t know where Syriana was, but he might have an idea of whether or not Fury was up to something. Once he’d reached the floor that held Steve’s quarters, he marched out of the elevator and found the super soldier standing in the kitchen, looking a little shocked to see him.

“Tony?”

“Where is she, Steve?” Tony asked, walking over to the older man. “Where is Syri?”

Frowning lightly, the blond shook his head. “I haven’t seen her today, why?”

“Fury called you down to headquarters. _Why?_ ”

Furrowing his brow, Steve set his plate of food aside and dusted his hands off. “I was there for a debriefing from a mission. How do you even know about that?”

“She’s _gone_ , Steve,” Tony continued, pacing in his spot. God, he was so _tired_ , but he couldn’t sleep. Not yet. Not until he knew where his wife was. “I don’t know where she is. She didn’t come home after her meeting with Fury, and the penthouse was empty.”

“Hold on a minute,” putting a hand out to stop the man, Steve raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean she’s _gone_ , Stark?”

“Did you not hear me just now? _She never came home!_ ”

“Did the two of you have a fight?”

“No!” Tony shook his head, turning to start the pacing again. “I mean, she… found some things out and she wasn’t happy, but we didn’t _fight_. She said she was going to be home, Steve, and she’s _not_.”

“Have you called the police?”

“You know as well as I do that the police aren’t going to do anything to help. They still haven’t found half of the people on their Missing Persons list.” Stopping in his tracks, Tony took a minute to inhale deeply and compose himself. He wasn’t about to lose his cool in front of Steve. But _damn_ , the urge to just sit down and cry because he didn’t know what the fuck was going on, was starting to get hard to control. Clearing his throat, he kept his eyes on something over Steve’s shoulder instead of looking him in the eye when he spoke again. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We could go down to HQ and ask Fury if Syriana ever came back.” Folding his arms over his chest, Steve shrugged, looking at Tony with a wary eye. “Are you all right?”

“I haven’t slept in two days. I don’t know where my wife is. I’m peachy fucking keen, Rogers.” Tony bit out, patting himself down for a cigarette. “ _Fuck_.”

“Calm down,” Steve wasn’t sure those were the right words to say, but he honestly didn’t know what else to do to get Tony to sit still for a few seconds. The man was starting to make him dizzy.

“Fuck you!” Tony snapped, pointing a finger in the blond’s face. “Fuck you, Rogers! She’s all I’ve got, and I don’t know where the fuck she is! Don’t you _dare_ tell me to _calm down!_ ”

“Tony,” Steve put his hands up in front of him. “I understand you’re upset, all right? But you can’t take this out on me. I know as much as you do. Let’s just take a few minutes here so you can pull yourself together, and we’ll go down to headquarters and ask Fury if he’s seen her since the meeting.”

“He _hasn’t_.” Tony spat, glaring at the older man. “She never went back. She wouldn’t go back. She basically told the Eyeball to go fuck himself, and walked out.”

“Jesus,” Steve let out a low whistle. “I knew she was getting sick of the job, but I never thought I’d hear something like that.”

“She had her reasons.” Running a hand through his hair, Tony shot the man a tired look and sighed. “Are we going or not?”

“Yeah, sure.” Nodding, Steve walked over to where his shoes and jacket were, pulling them on before waving Tony towards the elevator. “Just promise me you won’t try to kill anyone down there, will you?”

“No promises, Rogers.” Tony muttered, slapping his hand down on the button as the doors closed.

X+X+X+X

“Mr. Stark,” Fury’s voice rang out in the lobby as he approached with Agent Hill and Agent Harris at his heels. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Where’s my wife, Fury?” Tony growled out, completely ignoring the look Steve shot him.

“I haven’t seen Agent Stark since yesterday.” The man shrugged lightly, nodding in greeting to Steve.

“She didn’t come home last night. Her penthouse was empty. She’s a strong girl, Fury. She couldn’t have been _kidnapped_.” The brunet narrowed his eyes at the man standing before him and fought not to slug him in the eye. “She was upset when she left here yesterday.”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you, Mr. Stark.”

“I don’t _care_ about your conversation, _Eyeball_.” Tony grit his teeth, shaking Steve off when the blond put a hand on his shoulder. “ _Where the hell is my **wife**?_ ”

“I can put out a Missing Persons report for you, if you want. We can keep eyes out from the streets for you. But I’m afraid I don’t know where she is.”

“ _Bullshit!_ That’s bullshit! I don’t believe you!”

“You’re not inclined to believe me, Mr. Stark. However,” looking over his shoulder at Agent Harris, Fury nodded at the redhead. “You can speak to Agent Harris. He was witness—”

“Agent Harris is a useless sack of shit.” Tony gestured wildly at the skinny man behind Fury. “He’s too busy trying to put his hands all over the women in this facility to care about anything else!”

Fury was obviously not amused by Tony’s continual outbursts, and it showed on his face as he glared at him before clearing his throat. “Mr. Stark, I told you, I have not seen your wife since yesterday afternoon. Now, you can stand around yelling at me all you want, but that isn’t going to solve or change anything. As I said, I can provide you with assistance in finding her, but I’m afraid that’s all I can do.”

Tony wanted to laugh. Either the man had no concern for his own agent’s well being, or he was just _that_ skilled of a liar to stand here and tell him that he had no idea where Syriana was. Shaking his head, the billionaire turned and started to march out of the lobby when he heard Agent Harris call out,

“Did you think about the possibility that Syri just didn’t want to come home to you?”

If Steve hadn’t been there to hold him back, there was a good chance that Tony would have broken the redhead’s face with one punch. As he grunted and fought against the blond’s hold, Tony ignored Steve as the man apologized and began to drag him out of the building. Once on the street, he let go and gave him a hard shove to the shoulder.

“Are you nuts?” Steve asked, running a hand through his hair. “You can’t attack a S.H.I.E.L.D agent.”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want!” Tony shouted back, ignoring the stares he was getting from a few people on the street. Pointing back at the building, the billionaire narrowed his eyes at Steve. “They have my wife. I know they do. And I’m not going to just give up. I will get her back.”

“You don’t know if they have her, Tony.”

“I’m ninety nine percent sure that they _do_.” Turning on his heel, Tony started to walk towards his car, fishing out his keys and his pack of cigarettes. “And I’m prepared to do whatever the fuck it takes to get her back.”

X+X+X+X

“Agent De Luca?” Fury called as he stepped into Syri’s little room to find the woman sitting up on the bed, picking at the remnants of her breakfast. “Agent Coulson said you wanted to see me.”

Looking up from her food, the brunette blinked slowly and nodded. She felt so tired and heavy, though she’d gotten a fair amount of sleep the night before. It was funny; she couldn’t quite recall her dreams, or the reason why she wanted to talk to the Director. Clearing her throat, she moved the tray to the end of the bed and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m… confused, sir.”

“Confused about what?”

“Why am I here? What happened to me?”

“You suffered a severe panic attack that caused you to hallucinate and act out. We’ve been doing our very best to bring you back to normal, and it seems we’ve had a bit of a breakthrough.”

“What about all these memories I’m having? About Tony Stark? Did Phil tell you?”

“He did give me a brief rundown, yes,” eyeing the woman, Fury folded his arms over his chest. “The doctors say you’ve created your own fantasy of sorts to escape the darkness of your own mind. With the right medications, you should be back on your feet in no time at all.”

“It feels so real, though,” Syri mumbled, dropping her gaze to her hands. “Has Mr. Stark gotten back to Phil about possibly meeting with me?”

“Mr. Stark has declined the invitation.” Fury told her, shrugging. “He said he didn’t have time to talk to some nutcase who thinks she’s married to him.”

The brunette didn’t know how to respond to that. Something in her chest ached at the idea that Tony would ever say those words at all, but if this whole thing was just a figment of her own imagination, then she supposed she couldn’t blame him.

“You will be moved from this facility later this afternoon,” Fury continued. “We’re going to put you somewhere where you can socialize and regain your right mind.”

“That sounds nice.” Actually, it didn’t sound very _nice_ at all, but Syriana wasn’t going to say so.

“You will be taken care of, Agent De Luca. S.H.I.E.L.D makes sure _all_ of our agents get the treatment that they need.” The man shot her a sincere look. “We need you back out there, De Luca.”

“I know,” Curling up in her spot, Syri sighed. “Thank you, sir.”

“If you need anything, be sure to let the nurses know. Phil will check in on you from time to time, of course.”

“Okay.”

“You just concentrate on getting better.” With that, Fury turned and left the room.

Leaning back against the wall, Syri let her drowsy gaze lift to the ceiling as she wrapped her arms around her knees and sighed again. Hopefully this all would pass, and she could have her life back again. She hated knowing she’d been set back so far. It would take time, but she was willing to do what she needed to get back to her job. S.H.I.E.L.D needed her. She just hoped it wouldn’t take too long to recover her mind this time.


	9. Recovered

_Syriana was paralyzed. The light shining down on her was painfully bright and she could hear the dull hum of the florescent bulb inside of it. No matter how hard she tried to shut her eyes against the glare, she could hardly do more than squint. She made a soft, helpless noise when the head of a man came into her line of sight. She could hardly make out the features of his face with the light in the backdrop, but he seemed almost familiar._

_“I’m going to need you to stay **still** ,” he murmured in a low voice. The glint of light reflecting off of something metal had Syri whining in protest. She didn’t need to see the object to know what it was. Something cold and sharp touched the skin between her breasts and cut downward in a single smooth glide. He was opening her up, she realized; cutting into her for reasons unknown to her. And it **hurt**._

_Frantically, she tried to squirm off of the table she had been laid across, but she could do little more than whimper as the stranger continued to cut away at her flesh. She heard a crack and screamed out in pain. Somewhere along the line, he’d switched to some strange tool that was breaking apart her ribs. Just as the pain was starting to bring her to the verge of passing out, Syri caught a glimpse of a blue light being held up for her to see. The man mumbled something, but his words sounded garbled as black faded into the edges of her vision and she fell unconscious._

Syri sat straight up in her bed, hands quickly patting at her chest for any signs of the device the man in her dream had implanted in her. There was nothing on her skin aside from a thin veil of cold sweat and the scars that had been etched in years ago on that fateful mission she’d taken with Jesse. Running both hands into her hair, the brunette turned and reached for the bottle of water on her nightstand.

“Syriana?” The light flicked on and Syri gasped out loud when she saw Phil standing in the doorway to her room.

“Jesus Coulson,” shaking her head, she closed her eyes for a moment. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

“I _was_ asleep,” coming further into the room, the man folded his arms over his chest and shot her a look. “Nightmares again?”

“Of course,” finally taking a sip of her water, Syri sank back against her pillow and sighed. “Do we _have_ to go in tomorrow?”

“You know the answer to that.” Picking up a bottle of medication, Phil opened it and tipped two of them into his palm. “Take these.”

“I _hate_ those, Phil,” Syri muttered, making a face as the pills were handed to her. “They make me feel fuzzy the next day.”

“They’ll help with the nightmares.”

Syriana almost told him that she’d rather _deal_ with the nightmares instead of the side-effects from the pills. Instead, she popped only one of them in her mouth and swallowed it down with another drink of water. “Happy?”

“I’d be happier if you took the other one, but I’ll compromise this time.” Smiling faintly, Phil gave Syri a pat on the shoulder and turned to leave. “Try to get some sleep. Fury has something he wants to discuss with you. Sounds important, so we need to be at headquarters relatively early.”

“Okay,” nodding, Syriana rubbed at her eyes and yawned as the older man walked out of the room, shutting off the light and closing the door behind him. Grumbling as she was left in total darkness, the brunette felt along the wall until her fingers brushed the Taplight she’d put up to help her sleep. She didn’t know why, but the dim blue light made her feel relaxed. Phil had objected to the idea of letting her have it at first, which she thought was a little weird. He’d said that he didn’t want her to be _triggered_ by it, then proceeded to ignore her when she asked what the hell something that was essentially just a nightlight, could trigger.

She honestly couldn’t wait to get her apartment back; having to stay with Phil and keep to regular hours of sleep, -and no smoking unless she wanted to crawl out onto the fire escape- was starting to get irritating. The place wasn’t exactly a dump, but it wasn’t very _homey_ , either. The building was literally a block away from HQ, tucked between a Chinese restaurant and some weird pawn shop that smelled like cheese, but Phil always insisted on walking with her whenever she wanted to go out. In the month that she’d been here, she had hardly been able to get a few moments alone. She knew Phil was just looking out for her and everything, but she was a grown woman who could take care of herself. She wasn’t so fragile that she needed a babysitter wherever she went.

Turning onto her side so she could gaze at the light on the wall, Syri sighed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. She wasn’t looking forward to going in to work the next day. Ever since her apparent _episode_ , she’d felt an odd aversion to S.H.I.E.L.D organization and everyone in it. Maybe it was just a result of the mental setback. She didn’t really _hate_ anyone there; she just felt uncomfortable at times. Her father _had_ told her she would get tired of working for the Government one day. He’d warned her that it would wear her out a lot faster than any other job would, regardless of how much she enjoyed the work. He did know from experience, after all. Perhaps this was what was happening; she was finally getting sick of the job.

Yawning widely, Syri shifted a little closer to the light on the wall, snuggling her head into her pillow as she closed her eyes and attempted to go back to sleep. She could think about all of this tomorrow after her talk with Director Fury.

X+X+X+X

Syri didn’t know what was worse: the cold, bitter coffee Coulson had bought her that morning at the cart outside of HQ, or the fact that she’d had to drag herself out of bed at five AM just to meet with Director Fury. Her head was pounding and she felt as though she’d been out partying all night. The sleeping meds usually did that to her; it was part of the reason she hated taking them. But Phil always insisted.

Thanking Coulson when he held the door open for her, the brunette yawned into her palm and scowled at Agent Harris on the way in. He’d spent the last few weeks trying to convince her that they’d been having an affair, but Syri knew better. She’d sooner believe that she’d been dating Phil. Ignoring the redhead, she went straight for the elevator and stepped in, holding it as she waited for Coulson.

“Go on ahead,” he waved a hand dismissively and smiled. “Fury wants to see you alone.”

 _Right_. Nodding, Syri let the doors close and let out a sigh. She had no idea what the Director wanted to talk about, but it had to be serious if he was bringing her into his office and not one of the debriefing cells. She hoped he wasn’t going to fire her over this last setback. Stepping out into the hallway that led to Fury’s office, the brunette straightened her clothes and her back, taking a deep breath before she knocked on the door.

“It’s open,”

Pushing the door open, Syri nodded to the Director and quickly took a seat in one of the vacant chairs near the desk. “Morning, sir.”

“You look like shit, De Luca,” Fury seated himself in the other chair, shooting her a pointed look. “How much sleep have you gotten this week?”

“I haven’t kept track, sir.” Shrugging, Syri took a sip of the coffee in her hand. “I’m functioning.”

“Phil tells me you’ve been having nightmares again.”

“I don’t think you called me in to discuss my nightmares, Director.” Rubbing her eyebrow, the brunette sat back in her seat with a huff. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about these things. “Is there something that you needed me for, sir?”

Raising an eyebrow, Fury leaned back and laced his fingers together on top of the desk. “I think it’s about time you went back out into the field, Agent De Luca. I’m putting you on an assignment—”

“Sir,” Syri stared at the man before her, and knit her brows together. “It’s only been a _month_ , and I don’t think I’d feel comfortable out there just yet.”

“You’ll be with Phil, and it’s a relatively low-key job.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to find—”

 _Sir, we have a security breach._ Fury’s walkie talkie crackled and cut the Director off. Picking up the device, he pressed a button and started to ask about the situation when the door to the room flew open and a worse for wear Tony stumbled inside. His dark eyes were wild as they set on Fury, and he took a few steps towards the desk, his hands balled into fists.

“I know she’s here,” he slurred out, sounding as though he’d been drinking for about as long as he’d been awake. “ _Where is my wife, Fury?_ ”

Clearing his throat, Director Fury gestured to the startled looking woman sitting just across from him. Turning, Tony stared at Syriana and flinched visibly. The brunette couldn’t read the look in the man’s eyes, but honestly this wasn’t how she’d ever pictured meeting Tony Stark. He looked _desperate_ ; a huge change from the poised confidence he usually portrayed.

“Syriana,” Tony’s voice was quiet. “Princess…”

Blinking, Syri looked at Fury, then back to Mr. Stark. “Pardon?”

Tony started to walk towards her, and paused when she leaned back in her seat away from him. Swallowing, he ran a hand through his hair and raised an eyebrow. “Where have you been?”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s cheek seemed to twitch at Syriana’s words; the _Mr. Stark_ almost stung. If he hadn’t been so plastered, he might’ve actually felt it. Swiveling his eyes to Fury, he snorted. “ ** _Mr_** _. Stark?_ What did you _do_ to her, Fury?”

“I’m afraid the young lady doesn’t know who you are, Mr. Stark.” Fixing Tony with a cold look, Fury seemed to smirk, though his features never changed. “Have you been drinking?”

“With all due respect sir,” Syri spoke up before Tony had the chance to go off on the Director. “I _do_ know who this man is. I’m just… confused as to how he knows who _I_ am.”

“We’re married,” Tony mumbled, shooting Fury a dark look from the corner of his eye.

“ _Married?_ ” The brunette blinked, trying to let the word sink in. “Mr. Stark, I’m afraid—”

“They did something to you.” Tony pointed an accusing finger at Fury. “ _He_ did something to you.”

“Miss De Luca is recovering from a bit of mental stress, Mr. Stark. I’d choose my words carefully if I were you.” Fury warned, leaning back in his seat and looking almost _amused_ at the situation.

“Director, may I have a few minutes alone with Mr. Stark, please?”

“Absolutely not. This man is inebriated. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“Five minutes, sir.” Syri pressed, finding it difficult to pinpoint just how she was feeling at the moment. The longer she stared at Tony in awe, the harder it was to look away. _Something_ inside of her was aching at the sight of him so distraught, and she had no idea why. “I will personally escort him out of the building afterward.”

“Agent _Harris_ will remove Mr. Stark.” Fury said as he got up from behind the desk. “You have five minutes, Agent De Luca. But you’re wasting your time, if you ask me.”

Syriana watched the Director walk out of the room, narrowing her eyes at the look he shot her as he shut the door behind him. She knew he’d probably activated some kind of surveillance system, but she also knew how to avoid having her conversation recorded. Once Fury was gone, she looked back at Tony and sighed. Fiddling with a pen in her pocket, she pressed a button and winced at the high pitched sound that followed. That would take care of any microphones that happened to be in the room, but only for so long.

“Talk. Fast.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Tony shrugged, still looking lost as he stared at the brunette. “We’re married. You went missing and here you are. Brainwashed.”

“Brainwashed, Mr. Stark?”

“Please don’t call me that,” the billionaire seemed determined not to wither further as he rubbed a hand over his face. “Call me Tony. Taplight. Asshole. Just don’t call me…”

“ _Taplight?_ ” Syri knit her brows together and frowned. Her thoughts instantly went to the little blue nightlight she had back at Phil’s place. Struggling to find a connection between the odd nickname and her strange need for the light, the brunette winced as the dull throb of a headache started to pulse at the front of her skull. “Jesus,”

“Don’t you remember?” Tony asked, looking concerned. “Don’t you remember _me?_ ”

The harder Syri tried to think, the more the pain began to envelop her head. Hissing sharply through her teeth she looked up at him as tears of pain sprang into her eyes, and shook her head.

“I don’t remember _anything_ , Mr. Stark.”

Tony licked his chapped lips and nodded, glassy eyes shifting to and fro. Shoving a hand into his pocket, he glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room and stepped over to Syri. Dropping something into her lap, he shrugged and started to back towards the door. “Maybe that will help.”

Looking to the object Tony had given her Syri frowned at the bracelet and started to ask what it was. Then the door opened and Agent Harris strolled in looking incredibly smug. Slipping the bracelet onto her wrist, the brunette stood abruptly and scowled at the redhead. “We weren’t finished.”

“Director Fury asked me to escort Mr. Stark to the front of the building.” Brian bit out, glaring back at Syri.

“That won’t be necessary,” grabbing hold of Tony’s upper arm, Syri nudged him and huffed. “Walk, Mr. Stark.”

“Agent De Luca—”

“Shove it, Harris,” the brunette snapped, guiding the drunk billionaire towards the door. “I’m a big girl. I can do it by myself.”

Leading Tony down to the elevator Syri let him go once they were inside, and moved to stand in a corner with her arms folded over her chest. Taking a deep breath, the brunette stared down at her feet and cleared her throat. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth, Tony?”

Looking relieved that he hadn’t been addressed as _Mr. Stark_ again, Tony glanced up at the ceiling of the elevator. “Get your hands on any magazine you can find.”

“I haven’t touched a magazine in ages,” Syri said quietly, tucking herself further into the corner. “Phil doesn’t keep them in the apartment and we’re lucky if we get the newspaper in here.”

“There’s a copy of _Vanity Fair_ in the security booth.”

“Which one?”

“Ground floor, near the interrogation hall.” Turning to Syri just as the elevator started to slow Tony gestured to her wrist and smiled faintly. “Take care of that for me, will you? It’s a very important piece of equipment.”

“What is it?” Syri asked, prodding a button to keep the doors from opening.

Tony simply smiled and leaned in, pressing a hesitant kiss to the younger woman’s forehead. Without another word, he pressed the _Door Open_ button and strolled out, putting his hands up in a surrendering gesture when he was greeted by a group of armed security agents. Syriana stepped out ahead of him, gesturing for the agents to put their guns down. Marching Tony towards the front door, the brunette didn’t look at him as she opened it. Tony gave her one last look and strolled out quickly. Shutting the door, Syri looked to the others still standing around, and nodded.

They all dispersed instantly, going back to their respective posts and leaving Syriana standing alone in the front entrance hall. After a moment or two, Syri finally let go of the door handle and headed for the security booth Tony had mentioned. Smiling politely at one of the guards inside, she started up a meaningless conversation about needing heavier security near the tech department and laughed at the terrible jokes the man had to tell. When he finally walked out, she looked over the messy desk, and snatched up the copy of _Vanity Fair_ that had been tucked beneath a pile of napkins and stuffed it into her laptop bag.

“Need something?” Phil’s voice startled the brunette, and the man was all smiles when she turned to face him.

“Actually, I was looking for aspirin.” Syri hoped Phil hadn’t seen her take the magazine. She had a funny feeling that he wouldn’t allow her to keep it if he knew she had it. “Headache.”

“Try the Infirmary.” Phil advised, folding his hands in front of him. “I don’t think they keep aspirin in here.”

“You never know.” Smiling tightly, the brunette ducked out of the room and headed for the Infirmary on the other side of the building. She kept her eyes away from the cameras that she passed, not wanting to give away the fact that the gears in her head were turning a mile a minute. It bothered her that Fury had tried to pass off Stark’s visit as an act of his alcoholic eccentricity. While she wasn’t sure she believed Tony’s words, _something_ was scratching at the back of her mind, urging her to remember some repressed thought that might not even exist. Again, as she tried to piece together the puzzle that had been thrust in front of her, Syri felt the rush of pain in her head. This time it was accompanied by a wave of dizziness, and she grunted as she lost her balance and ran into the wall.

“Fuck,” cradling her head in her palm, Syri waited for the nausea and pain to subside. Faintly, she wondered if the weird spell was a product of her medication; she’d had this happen in the past with one of the anti-seizure meds she’d been put on for a while. Ignoring the looks she was getting from some of her fellow agents, Syri pushed away from the wall and continued on her way down the hall. Every few steps, she cringed at the pain in her skull and did her best to hide her discomfort. If she could just make it to the women’s bathroom near the infirmary, she’d be in the clear.

“Agent De Luca,” Director Fury’s voice rang out and made her stop cold in her tracks. “We weren’t finished with our discussion.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Syri turned to face the man, closing her eyes against another wave of nausea. “I’m not feeling very well.”

“You’re pale,” Fury muttered, not sounding particularly concerned for her. “What did Stark tell you?”

“Nothing significant, sir,” the younger woman lied, doing her best to remain on her feet as she swayed slightly. “It was a waste of time, just as you said.”

“Mhm,” he studied her warily, turning to nod at a pair of agents standing off to the side. “Escort her to the Infirm—”

“I can walk by myself,” Syri blurted, shaking her head. As if to prove it, the brunette turned on her heel and marched as quickly as she could to the Medical Hall, not bothering to look back at Fury. She could hear his boots heavy on the floor behind her, and she swallowed the urge to be sick as she shoved open a door and startled the nurse on the other side.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked, raising a brow.

Syriana had started to sweat from the curious mix of nausea and pain, but she was determined to stay standing. “Aspirin, please,”

“Take a seat,” pointing to one of the examining tables, the blonde watched Syri carefully as she crossed the room to sit. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

As soon as the other woman was out of the room, Syri was on her feet again. Locking the door, she tugged the magazine out of her bag and flipped through it, blinking sweat out of her eyes. She could feel her heart racing in her chest as the beginnings of an anxiety attack started to tighten up her lungs. She was terrified of what she was going to find, and as she turned the glossy pages of the magazine, she damn near threw up when she came to a photograph printed on one of the pages.

Tony stood beside her, his elbow linked with hers and a smile on his face. She wore an expensive looking white dress, a single hoop earring and held tight to a bouquet of flowers. She looked _happy_ as she leaned against the billionaire’s side, her free hand clutching his tightly. Flipping the page, Syri took in the sight of the photographs of the two of them celebrating their wedding. She caught glimpses of Steve in a few of the pictures, and someone else she thought she recognized. But every time she tried to recall his name, her head would pound in protest.  She jumped when she heard the door handle being jiggled behind her, and stuffed the magazine back into her bag before unlocking it, smiling at the confused looking nurse.

“Sorry,” she murmured, moving to sit on the table again. “I have an issue with throwing up in front of people. Do you mind if I lie down for a while?”

Handing over the aspirin, the woman shook her head. “Feel free.”

“If Director Fury asks for me, tell him I’m unable to work today.” Taking the pills, Syri examined them for a moment before she popped them into her mouth and swallowed them dry. “Please,”

The blond nodded, eyeing Syri. “I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Watching the woman walk out of the room once more, Syri sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Her headache was not going to let up any time soon, it seemed. Even with the aid of the aspirin, she had a feeling that the pain would only get worse as she continued to try and figure out this situation with Mr. Stark. _Tony_. He had wanted to be called _Tony_ by someone who couldn’t remember ever knowing him. But the pictures, the pictures were _real_ , weren’t they? It wasn’t as if Stark had planted the magazine there after all, right? Stretching out on the examining table, Syri folded her arms and stared up at the ceiling as she chewed her lip and tried to straighten out her thoughts.

She was just so _fuzzy_ headed right now; it was weird how she seemed to be able to run through other thoughts, but the second she tried focusing on Tony, her brain felt like it was getting ready to explode. Something was wrong here, and it bothered her that she didn’t know what it was. Turning over onto her side, Syri brought up the wrist with the bracelet wrapped around it, to examine the ring of metal. It honestly didn’t look like anything of value, but Tony had said it was important. Skimming her fingers along the glass, she paused when she pressed something on the side and the bracelet lit up a bright blue. As the light grew brighter, Syri squinted at the way it seemed to blind her, and turned away from the gadget with a groan. A soft humming filled the empty room, the sound familiar and comforting when it reached Syri’s ears.

She _knew_ that sound, but Jesus Christ, why couldn’t she pinpoint it? Yanking her sleeve down to cover the bright light, the brunette brought her hands up close to rest her head on them and curled up on the table. Closing her eyes, she lay there listening to the steady hum of the device and smiled faintly. Whatever memory this bracelet was trying to stir up, it seemed to be a good one despite the sickness that came along with it. She felt herself relaxing against the table, utterly content as the sound lulled her into sleep.

X+X+X+X

It wasn’t the first explosion that woke her; the high pitched sound of something being charged had her springing off of the table with a wild yell. The building shook around her as she grabbed her bag and tore out of the room. Agents and personnel were running towards the front building, while others were frantically trying to find an exit. Curious, Syri took off running behind an agent decked out in full gear, stepping around him when he stopped near the stairs. It took the brunette a moment to figure out what was going on when she set eyes on the gold and red suit of armor standing in the middle of a crowd beside rubble that had once been the front entrance. Tony had both gauntlets raised and appeared to be talking to Fury, who stood with his hands folded behind his back.

“Give her back to me, Fury, or I’ll bring the roof down,” Tony threatened, the repulsors on his palms glowing brighter as that odd high frequency noise filled the air.

“Mr. Stark, I’m only going to say this once. _Back down_.”

Walking around a few more agents who had their guns drawn, Syri tried to get closer and shouted out when an arm went around her waist and a cold gun muzzle was pressed to her neck. “ _Walk_.”

The brunette did what she was told and stepped carefully around people and bits of concrete and glass littering the stairs.

“Mr. Stark,” the man shoved Syri forward, watching Tony turn to look at him through the helmet. Smiling, the man pressed the gun to the woman’s head again. “Back down, please,”

“Get away from my wife, _Coulson_ ,” Tony raised the gauntlet and aimed for the man standing behind Syri. He saw the way the younger woman flinched at the sight of the weapon, and very nearly reassured her that he wasn’t going to hit her with the blast.

“She’s not your wife anymore, Mr. Stark.”

Syri heard a click and watched as the light in front of her burned brighter. Her chest tightened and she fought to breathe as that Godforsaken sound filled her ears. There was a flash and a streak of something icy-hot flashed passed her head. Syriana heard a sizzle and smelled burning circuits as everything went black.

_The taste of vomit and metal was strong as she lifted her head from the floor. Her bruised ribs screamed as she shifted to sit up and survey her surroundings. She appeared to be trapped in a windowless metal box. The only object in the room was a knife. Shiny and cold it sat beneath the single light in the center of the room, and Syri could feel herself getting dizzy as she backed up against the wall. A clang sounded to her left and a door she hadn’t seen, opened. She nearly screamed in relief when she saw Phil. But something was off._

_The warm look usually kept in his blue eyes was **gone**. That’s how she’d known he wasn’t exactly **Phil** anymore. She’d known since he’d snatched her from the penthouse that the figure of Phil Coulson was nothing more than a completely artificial copy. Shit, she could almost smell the motor oil on his suit when he’d grabbed her. Taking in a deep breath, Syri curled up tighter against the wall and cleared her throat._

_“Where am I, Phil?”_

_“Don’t speak, please,” Clone or not, the Thing still had Phil’s polite demeanor. It was horrifying and oddly fascinating at the same time. Strolling further into the middle of the room, the figure picked up the knife and examined it before offering it to Syriana. “Here,”_

_“I don’t want it.” Syri shook her head, flicking her gaze up to meet the Thing’s._

_Tossing the knife to the other side of the room with a loud clatter, Phil crouched in front of her with a smile spread across his lips. Without saying a word, he lifted his hand and slapped her hard. Syri tasted blood in her mouth, but didn’t utter a peep at the strike. They had been trying to break her for weeks, and not even another harsh beat down from Natasha had spurred Syriana into believing their lies._

_“Syriana,” Phil’s voice was disturbingly kind as it sounded in her ear. “I’m afraid your condition is not improving. We’re going to have to stoop to drastic measures.”_

_“Are you going to electrocute me again?” Syri bit out, rubbing the spot on her arm where she’d been hooked up to some kind of electric current just a few days ago._

_“No,” reaching into his pocket, Phil extracted a syringe similar to the one he’d pulled on her when he took her. Grabbing her arm to keep her from going anywhere, he kept that soft smile on his face as he jabbed her with the needle and administered the drugs inside. Pulling back, he didn’t even bother to sterilize the spot as he rose to his full height and gave her a pat to the head. “You’ll start seeing things our way again soon enough, Syri.”_

_Syri felt stoned as she watched Phil walk out of the room. Pushing herself to her feet, she tried to follow him, stumbling over her numbed legs and crashing bodily against the closed door. Crumpling to the floor, the brunette let out a soft grunt and lay down on her side. Her body couldn’t take much more of this abuse, and she was afraid that S.H.I.E.L.D’s tactics were finally starting to work…_

“ _Princess_ ,” the mechanical sound of Tony’s voice echoed in Syriana’s ear and brought her back to the world of the living. Gasping for air as though she’d been holding it the entire time she’d been out, the brunette grabbed hold of Tony’s armored shoulders and looked around. She wasn’t at headquarters anymore that was for sure.

“Where…?” Swallowing against a wave of nausea, she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her forehead.

“We’re safe,” Tony flipped the faceplate of the helmet off, his features set at concerned for Syri’s condition. “Are you all right?”

“What happened? Did you hit me?”

“I hit Phil.” The billionaire stood up to press the Quick Release button on the armor, wincing when Syri jumped at the crash of the metal falling to the floor. “He was going to shoot your head off your shoulders.”

“It wasn’t Phil,” rubbing her hands over her face, Syri tried to get her heart to stop racing in her chest. “I don’t know what it was. But it wasn’t Phil…”

“It was a Life Model Decoy. My own design, actually,” Tony kicked aside a piece of the armor and stepped closer to Syri once more. “How S.H.I.E.L.D got hold of it, is beyond me, however.”

“I saw the pictures,” Syriana murmured, looking over when Tony crouched nearby. “You weren’t lying.”

“Of course I wasn’t,” running a hand through his hair, the billionaire sat down on the carpet. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept at all in the last month.

“I still can’t remember any of it,” heaving a sigh, the brunette turned and leaned back against the wall. “I get sick every time I try.”

“Sick how?”

The petite woman rolled a shoulder carelessly, flicking her eyes around the room to try and find something, _anything_ that looked familiar to her. “Headaches. I got dizzy for a while, too.”

“Bastards,” shaking his head, Tony thumped the ground with his palms, scowling and looking much like a frustrated child. “I _knew_ they’d pull something like this…”

“Where are we, Tony?” Syri asked again, lolling her aching head against the wall. She could still smell the scent of burning circuits, and she wondered faintly if it was from the blast that had fried the Phil clone.

“Steve’s,” the man answered finally. “That apartment he keeps, he let me borrow it for a day.”

“Just a day?”

“That’s all we need, princess,” Getting back to his feet, Tony headed for the kitchen to grab a few water bottles. “Then we’re out of here,”

“I can’t go with you, Mr. Stark,” the brunette watched the man turn around so fast that he nearly fell. His dark eyes settled on her, and he set the bottles aside. Crossing the room, Tony seemed to twitch as he knelt in front of her again and reached out to gingerly touch her hand.

“Syriana, please,” -funny, Syri’d never thought she’d ever hear _that_ word come out of his mouth. “I can help you remember.”

“What if you _can’t?_ Tony, what if—”

“Let me _try_ , Syri,” the man gnashed his teeth, trying not to squeeze her fingers too hard.

“Can you tell me something?” Curling her fingers around his, Syri frowned curiously at the almost familiar feel of the calloused skin.

“What?” Tony let her play with his fingers, watching through bleary eyes. He was so tired from everything that had happened over the last month; he just wanted to fall down somewhere and sleep.

“Are we happy?” The question was innocent, and Tony couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him when he heard it.

“In your words, _hell no_.” He chuckled lowly and reached up to brush a bit of dirt from her cheek. “I piss you off. I make you want to break things. You’ve apparently spent more time crying over me than you ever did over Jesse. I make you want to curl up and listen to Nickelback and _cry_.”

Syriana stared at Tony like she wasn’t sure he was being serious or not. If Tony did all of those things, then _why_ had they ever gotten married? Why was she with him in the first place? There _had_ to be a reason.

“You told me that you can’t live without me,” smoothing his thumb along her knuckles, the brunet fought the urge to kiss them. “And I’m thinking that the feeling is mutual here, princess.”

“Kinda figured that out,” Syri smirked faintly at him and took her hand back. “You blew up part of HQ to get to me.”

“I would have destroyed the entire block if I had to. I knew they’d been hiding you ever since JARVIS got a hit on the facial recognition software. But every time I went down there, Fury gave me the same song and dance about you still being considered _missing._ ” Shaking his head, Tony went to retrieve the water bottles, bringing one back for the brunette.

Fiddling with the bottle in her hand, Syri wanted to ask him how long he’d been trying to get her back, but kept the question to herself. Her head was starting to hurt again as she tried to recall anything she could about their past together. Taking a sip of the water to stem the sick feeling in her stomach, she looked back up at Tony and raised an eyebrow.

“If I agree to go with you,” she paused to groan at the ache at the back of her head. “ _Jesus_ , can I sleep?”

“You can sleep regardless, princess,” Looking around, Tony walked over to help her to her feet and guide her towards the bedroom. “Can I get you anything?”

“No,” shaking her head, Syri leaned on the billionaire as they walked through the small apartment. Crawling onto the bed, the brunette curled up and let her eyes find the bracelet wrapped around her wrist. Chewing her tongue, she turned over to look at Tony, who seemed to be fidgeting as he tried to figure out what to do now. Nodding her head in the direction of his chest, Syri cleared her throat, “Can I see it?”

Raising a brow at the question, Tony fiddled with the body suit he wore until his chest was exposed and the reactor was casting a faint blue glow on Syri’s features. The brunette wore the same mesmerized look on her face as she studied the device, then looked to her bracelet.

“…we built something.” She mumbled, cringing against a twinge of pain. “This powered it, right?”

A smile very nearly graced Tony’s lips as he nodded and came closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “That’s correct. Do you remember anything else?”

“That light,” reaching out, Syri tapped a nail against the glass of the reactor. “I can’t sleep without that.”

“You told me once that the reactor made you comfortable. You didn’t say why. But you do use it as a tool to calm you down when you’re upset. Sometimes, without my permission.”

“My head hurts,” Syri complained, rubbing at her temples. “I can’t remember more.”

“It’s all right,” shifting to drape himself along the bed, Tony kept his arms to himself as he rested his head on the pillow beside Syri’s. “We’ll work on it. We’ll get you better. You just have to trust me, princess. Do you trust me?”

Letting her gaze shift from the reactor to Tony’s face, Syri studied him for a few moments before nodding slowly. “I think so, yeah.”

“Good,” Tony leaned forward and kissed her forehead out of habit. “Get some sleep. We’ll move out early, and then we’ll get started on getting you back to normal.”

 


	10. Ambushed

“It’s hot here,” Syri complained on the third day of being confined to Tony’s Dubai house. “Jesus Christ, was it necessary to fly halfway around the world?”

“You know the answer to that.” Tony muttered back, tinkering with something on the table in front of him. “JARVIS, turn on the air conditioner for the lady.”

_Right away, sir._

“It’s the middle of February and it’s eighty degrees,” the brunette slumped in her seat, taking sips of the glass of water she’d been given a little earlier. “It’s not helping to ease the detox.”

“Can’t imagine that it would,” For three days, Tony had been trying to figure out what it was that they’d given Syri to scramble her brains so badly. It had come down to having the poor girl subject herself to at-home urine drug detection kits before he’d singled out the culprit as a mix of LSD and some kind of serious tranquilizer, on top of whatever other psychosomatic meds they’d put her on. He’d found numerous track marks all up and down her arms from where she’d been stuck with needles for God knew how long, and discovered that Syri _really_ didn’t enjoy being left alone in a room for extended periods of time. She’d had nightmares the first and second nights, tossing and turning and running out of the room to be sick several times before dawn broke. Tony was running on nearly empty, but he was determined to try and get her to regain her memories. He just had to get the drugs out of her system and figure out how to trigger a memory relapse first.

“How long is this going to take?” Rubbing at her queasy belly, Syri tried not to groan like a miserable child.

“Not sure, princess,” twisting a screw into place, Tony tightened it and looked over the contraption in front of him. “Come over here, I want to see if this fits.”

“What is it?” Sliding out of her chair, Syri crossed the room sluggishly and leaned against the edge of the table to take a look at the hunk of metal Tony had been working on for the past hour.

“Electro-stimulation Headband,” the billionaire looked proud of the device as he picked it up. “It’ll send little shockwaves—”

“ _No_. Absolutely not,” Syri pushed away from the table and started for the door, shivering as a sick chill ran up her spine. “You are not electrocuting me, Stark.”

“It won’t electrocute you,” Knitting his brows together, Tony spun his stool around to watch her walk away. “It just stimulates the sectors of your brain that have been scrambled. Syri, I wouldn’t build something to _hurt_ you.”

“Yeah, that’s what Phil said. _We would never do anything to **hurt** you_. And then they went and shot God knows how many volts of electricity through me and expected it to _help_.” Licking her lips, Syri crossed her arms tight over her chest and shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry Tony, but no.”

 “I’m _not_ Phil. _Phil_ wasn’t even Phil. I’m your husband, Syriana, and I wouldn’t—” stopping himself before he went on a full fledged rant, Tony set the device aside and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay. New plan. Why don’t we go get lunch?”

“If I eat anything, I’ll just throw it back up.” The brunette mumbled, picking up her glass of water.

Tony was so tired he almost wanted to hit her. She was acting like some kind of sullen teenager, moping around the house and complaining about everything. He knew he couldn’t fault her, however. She’d be fine in a few days when the drugs were out of her system. Until then, he was just going to have to put up with it. “I’ll see if there’s soup on the menu.”

“Do we really have to go out?”

“JARVIS, find me a restaurant that delivers, preferably with soup on the menu.” Tony tried to appear somewhat cheerful as he wiped his hands off on his jeans and slid off of the stool. With his back to the brunette, the billionaire closed his eyes and struggled to remind himself that his wife was somewhere inside the moody woman hovering around the nearest A/C vent.

_I have found four restaurants in the area meeting the search criteria._

“Wonderful,” clapping his hands together, Tony turned around and pointed at one of the selections that had been brought up. “This looks good. Order my usual, JARVIS, and get whatever the little lady wants. I need a shower.”

“Tony,” Syri moved to stop him on his way out of the workshop. Pausing, he looked down at her expectantly and remained silent. Sighing, the brunette licked her lips and tried not to fidget as she brought her eyes up to meet his. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what, princess?” Tony was going to play it off like he was just tired; Syriana wasn’t going to know she was the cause of his crabbiness.

“This. Everything.” Gesturing around her, Syri shrugged. “The situation I’ve put you in. I’m sorry.”

“Let me tell you something, princess,” Tony took a step towards her and shot her a serious look. “You didn’t _put me_ into any situation. I did this on my own. I wasn’t going to let them _keep_ you, Syriana.”

“I know,” the younger woman said quietly, looking down once more. “I know.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Giving Syri a light squeeze to the shoulder, Tony walked around her and headed out of the room. “Just go ahead and give JARVIS your order.”

Watching him go, Syri listened for the sound of the door shutting before she sighed and took a seat on the edge of a table. Rubbing her hands over her face, she wondered if things would be easier if she just left. She knew Tony would never allow her to walk out, not after what he went through to get her back. But no matter how sincere he seemed, Syriana just couldn’t bring herself to believe him one hundred percent. She’d done a bit of research on Brainwashing in between dizzy spells and the horrible nightmares that were threatening to tear apart what remained of her sanity, and she was indeed displaying signs of having been tampered with. But if she couldn’t _remember_ anything except the beatings and the electroshocks she’d endured when S.H.I.E.L.D was forcing her to forget her life, then maybe _none_ of it was real.

Shaking her head to try and clear it, the brunette found herself sucking down a harsh breath of air and gripping the edge of the table. Squeezing her eyes shut, she did her best to fight back the panic rising in her chest and jumped a mile when JARVIS spoke out of nowhere.

_Mrs. Stark, shall I place that lunch order for you?_

“No thanks, JARVIS,” she gulped down more air and pushed away from the table. She couldn’t be in this room anymore. It was too small; she felt like she was suffocating. “Where did Tony go?”

_Mr. Stark is currently in the upstairs bathroom._

“Thank you,” making her way out of the room, Syri kept one hand braced on the wall as she navigated through the huge house and climbed the stairs. She stopped twice to catch her breath, wondering if Tony would be upset with her for joining him in the bathroom. Maybe if she just sat in a corner and kept quiet, he wouldn’t even notice her. When she found herself standing outside the bathroom door, she gnawed at her lip and took as deep of a breath that her tight chest would allow, and carefully slipped inside.

The door creaked as it opened and Syri watched Tony turn around to look at her through the fogged glass of the shower. She was almost disappointed by the fact that his figure was blurred behind the glass, and she kept her eyes level with his as she leaned on the doorframe.

“Something you need?” Tony asked finally, turning to tilt his head up towards the spray.

“I couldn’t breathe,” she shrugged. “I can sit outside, if you want.”

“It’s fine.” The billionaire waved her further into the room. “Have a seat.”

Nodding, the brunette closed the door behind her and parked herself on top of the closed toilet. Letting her eyes wander around the blindingly white room, she sighed and fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist. She hadn’t taken it off since Tony had given it to her, claiming that the light made her feel at ease. She didn’t keep it on all the time, of course, but she liked to have it just in case Tony wasn’t in the mood to let her stare at the reactor.

“Talk to me, princess,” Tony chuckled softly, spitting water from his mouth as he turned to look at her through the shower door again. “It feels a little strange having you in here when you’re so quiet.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re afraid of the headband?”

A queasy feeling bubbled in Syriana’s stomach at the thought. Covering her mouth with her hand, she breathed through her nose and closed her eyes until the feeling went away. “…I told you. They shocked me. I can remember them putting me on a table and electrocuting me.”

“And you think I’ll do the same?”

The brunette licked her lips and stayed silent. She didn’t want to tell him that while she trusted him, she was still unsure about this whole thing. Syriana didn’t think she’d be able to face him if she ever said anything like that. The click of the shower door opening made her look over to find Tony peering at her from around it expectantly.

“I don’t know what I think anymore, Tony. It’s difficult to think.”

Tony chewed at the inside of his cheek for a moment before closing the shower door again. “What if I test it on myself and show you that it’s harmless?”

“It wouldn’t work on you, Tony, you know that.”

“There has to be a way to stimulate your brain into remembering. I told you, I would do everything I could to help you remember, Syri. But you have to _trust_ me and _trust_ that I’m not going to hurt you.”

Looking down at her hands, the younger woman tried to keep from fidgeting. Tony could see her through the foggy glass, and it bothered him that she was behaving like this. It wasn’t the reluctance to let him use the electro-stimulation headband; it was the withdrawn, shy, nervousness that bothered him. The Syriana he knew only behaved like this when she was having one of her episodes. Granted, he knew that his wife was going through quite a lot right now, but seeing her so _meek_ was upsetting.

“I trust you, Tony,” Syri said quietly, picking at her fingernails just to give her hands something to do. “I’m just afraid that our life together isn’t the only thing that will resurface.”

Shutting the water off, Tony sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. He said nothing as he opened the shower door and stepped out to grab a towel and wrap it around his waist. Eyeing the woman sitting near him, he walked over and rested his hands on her knees before crouching. Smiling tiredly when Syriana lifted her head, Tony leaned in and kissed her forehead.

“I know it’s scary, princess. You’re not the only one worried about what the de-scrambling will bring forth. But I _promise_ you that you won’t have to suffer anymore than you already have.”

“How can you promise something like that, Tony?” Syri asked, hands twitching as she fought to keep from touching him. She’d been having trouble with that over the last few days. She didn’t know this man, but she was so compelled to touch him all the time. Faintly, she wondered if this was how things were between them; were they touchy feely? Affectionate, even? Or were they just that couple that only touched each other when they were hurting, or when they were too horny to keep their hands to themselves? “You don’t know if this will even _work_. What if I’m stuck like this forever?”

“You won’t be, Syri.”

“You don’t know the first thing about working with the brain. Everything you know, you learned from Maya Hansen.”

An odd look crossed Tony’s face as he studied the woman in front of him. Tilting his head, he narrowed his eyes at her. “How do you know that?”

“Because you told me,” Shrugging, Syri closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness.

“I told you that _years_ ago.” The billionaire squinted.

“I remember… discussing how someone ought to invent a way to reboot the human mind like a computer,” she paused to take a breath and swallow the queasiness. “And you told me Maya Hansen was working on something like that. You said you’d read a lot of essays on her, even talked to her on occasion. You may have even worked with her, I don’t know.”

“Take it easy,” Tony said quietly, noticing that the brunette was starting to turn a greenish-grey color. “Don’t make yourself sick, Syriana.”

“We almost had sex that night,” the younger woman mumbled, taking another deep breath. “We were drunk. We talked a long time, and I kissed you…”

Tony tried his best not to smirk. He found it amusing that this particular memory was coming back to her. As he sat there watching her try to even out her breathing so she wouldn’t be sick, he had to stop himself from filling in the gaps. He couldn’t tell her that she’d been called over to the Tower so he could apologize for being a bastard. He couldn’t say that they’d talked about things that he didn’t like discussing with anyone. He had to hold his tongue so he wouldn’t tell her that they’d been interrupted by JARIVS and Happy _and_ Steve, and that he’d done something so rude to her that he’d sent her fleeing from the room in tears.

As she took another slow breath, Syriana shook her head and finally opened her eyes. “It’s all blurry. I can’t remember any more.” Truthfully, she didn’t _want_ to try; her head was starting to pound and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep from throwing up if she continued.

“That’s okay,” Tony smiled, giving her leg a pat. “That’s much better than anything else we’ve gotten so far.”

“I don’t understand why you can’t just _tell_ me these things, Tony,” Syri mumbled, leaning back against the back of the toilet. “It would make it so much easier.”

“I’d love to, princess. But the thing is I could tell you anything you wanted to hear, or only the good things. And if I did that, I would be no better than the bastards that did this to you. They beat it into you to believe what you do now. I can’t do that. I won’t do it.” Reaching up, Tony swept his thumb over Syri’s pale cheek. “This way is much more difficult, but it’s also the best way.”

“If you insist.” Syri didn’t even try to fight the urge to lean into the touch. Nestling her cheek against his palm, the brunette brought a hand up to rest it over Tony’s, closing her eyes for a moment. In a strange way, the tender touch felt _right_. Trailing her fingertips over his knuckles, Syri cracked her eyelids to look at Tony, taking in his features. He sat there patiently, smiling at her from his spot. He still looked exhausted, and she really couldn’t blame him. She’d probably be the same way if she were in his position. Stroking her fingers down his arm, the brunette reached out and tentatively touched his face. Before she could stop herself, Syriana leaned forward in her seat and brushed her lips over his. She didn’t know what she thought she’d accomplish by kissing him, but the urge was just too strong to ignore anymore.

Tony was careful not to press for more contact, though he wanted to. Instead, he let Syri take her time running her fingers along his jaw while she pressed soft, experimental kisses to his lips. Then, in a move that surprised him, the brunette cupped his face and brought him closer, parting his lips with her tongue and tilting her head to find the perfect fit. Caught a little off guard, Tony dropped his hand from Syri’s face and rested it near her waist, pulling her to the edge of the closed toilet. He smiled against her lips when she ran her fingers into his wet hair and shifted to accommodate him between her knees, leaning against her comfortably until she pulled back from the kiss to stare at him.

Syri’s dark eyes shifted back and forth, and there was an odd little look on her face as she licked her bottom lip. Curling her fingers in his hair, the brunette brought him close for another kiss, this one a little softer than the last. She remembered this; she remembered the feeling of kissing him, and how these kisses usually led to other things. She remembered the way his goatee always tickled her chin, and how he always seemed to taste of cigarettes and expensive scotch, even when he swore he hadn’t touched the stuff. Turning her head away to catch her breath, Syri buried her face against Tony’s neck and let out a miserable sounding groan. “Taplight,”

“Don’t throw up on me, princess,” the billionaire teased, running a hand up and down her back as he tried to comprehend the feeling running through him. For a split second, Syriana had sounded like herself instead of the meek little girl that he’d been dealing with.

Syriana only grunted at him, feeling a little too dizzy to respond with words. Instead, she just kept her head where it lay and lightly scratched her nails through Tony’s hair. Something about the smell of him was relaxing, though her head continued to pound.

“Princess, I have to get dressed,” Tony said quietly after a while. Truthfully, his legs were starting to ache from being in this position for so long, and while he didn’t want to disturb the woman if he didn’t have to, it was becoming unbearable. After a moment, the billionaire looped his arm around the petite woman and tucked the other under her legs, lifting her up and nearly laughing when she gasped in surprise. Hefting her up so she wasn’t resting so awkwardly against him, Tony smirked when Syri pulled back to look at him, and turned to walk out of the bathroom. “You look surprised,”

“Wasn’t expecting to be picked up.” Syri shrugged, allowing Tony to set her on the bed before he wandered off to find something to wear. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot, princess,” dropping the towel, Tony almost laughed at the way Syri’s eyes went wide before she turned to look somewhere else.

“Um,” Clearing her throat, the brunette fumbled to remember what she’d wanted to ask him. She hadn’t expected him to just go ahead and disrobe like that. Peeking through a bit of hair, Syriana watched him as he dressed and gnawed at her bottom lip. “What are we like together? I mean… obviously, if we’re married, we love each other. But do we _act_ like a couple? Because I have to tell you, Tony, from what I know of your reputation, it’s hard for me to picture you being _domestic_.”

“We’re not really the typical couple, no.” Tony tugged his jeans on and zipped them up, reaching into his bag for a shirt. “We fight an unhealthy amount, we don’t do the _cute and cuddly_ bullshit, and I think we spend most of our time with our backs to each other in the workshop. But we make it work.”

“What about sex?” The question was absurdly innocent, especially coming out of Syriana’s mouth. It nearly made Tony laugh to hear it, and he simply shook his head and shot her a look.

“We used to have a lot of sex, actually. Back when we were still sneaking around.” Shrugging, he pulled his shirt over his head and made a face. “That’s not to say we don’t still have a lot of sex. It’s just not a constant thing anymore.”

“Maybe it’s not constant because we’re married now?” Syri tipped her head to the side, bringing her legs up onto the bed. “Like, maybe when we were sneaking around we did it so much because we weren’t sure we’d ever get to do it again? And now that we’re married, we can do it whenever we want. That’s how it works, right?”

“It is,” Tony drawled, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed beside her.

“So, as your wife,” the brunette looked a little nervous as she curled her hands in her lap and looked up at Tony. “I can initiate it, right?”

“Is that what you want to do?” the billionaire figured he might as well be blunt about it. “Are you thinking that kissing me wasn’t enough?”

“It brought something back,” she answered, shrugging a shoulder. “I thought maybe if we took it further…”

Smiling faintly at the younger woman, Tony heaved a sigh and reached to cup the back of her head, bringing her in to kiss her forehead. “Let’s get some food into us first, princess. Unless you’re determined to do it now.”

“You should eat.”  Syri insisted, unable to keep herself from brushing her fingers over his cheek. “I’m a little tired, anyway. It’s probably better if we waited.”

“You look like you could use food too, princess,”

“I told you before, I don’t want any.” Shifting away from him, Syriana moved to lie down on the bed, pausing to look back at Tony. “I’ll eat later. Just order something small for me. I trust that you know what I like to eat.”

“Of course,” giving her leg a pat, Tony smiled and got up from the bed. “Get some rest, Syri. We’ll talk more later.”

Nodding, Syri settled her head on one of the pillows and watched Tony walk out of the room. As soon as he was gone, she turned over onto her back and let out a heavy sigh. Part of her wanted to call him back in and haul him onto the bed. It wasn’t just the idea that the sex could bring out some of her memories that was making her antsy; there was some serious physical attraction towards him that she just couldn’t seem to suppress. She’d done her best so far, but that kiss had sparked something, and she was sure Tony felt it too. He surprised her by not acting on his urges, however, and she wondered if he was acting that way because of her current condition, or if that was just how Tony Stark worked. If she were to go by his reputation alone, it certainly seemed like he was acting out of character, but that was just it. Tony Stark was a _character_ to the public eye. He had one night stands and drunken nights in Vegas and paparazzi that followed him wherever he went. He probably acted a certain way in the spotlight, then turned around and behaved like _this_ when behind closed doors.

She couldn’t imagine living like that. Syriana liked her privacy and she shied away from cameras when they were pointed at her. How she’d managed to end up with a man who seemed to thrive in the Limelight, she had no idea. But if she was lucky, Tony would help to resurface the suppressed memories and she would understand everything a little better than she did now.

X+X+X+X

A few more days passed with little fuss. The drugs had nearly drained out of Syriana’s system, but it didn’t seem to change her demeanor any. She was still acting somewhat shy and closed off, but she had moments where she was almost like the woman that Tony knew her to be. He knew he had to be patient about this, but it was getting difficult. By the seventh day, he had her down in the workshop with him, fussing with one of the computers just for fun. She was showing him how to hack into his own company’s database from an outside location, and Tony was pretending as though she’d never taught him this before. It made the woman happy to share her skills with him; he wasn’t going to ruin that for her.

“How’s the head today, princess?” Tony asked as he poured them each a fresh cup of coffee. “Any better?”

“I don’t know,” Syri shrugged, tapping the keys at an insane speed. “I dreamed about taking a lot of pills. You saved me, or something. It’s hard to tell. You were really angry.”

“That would be a memory,” the billionaire grumbled, not happy at all that she’d remembered _that_ of all things. “You were in a bad way a while back, and you decided to swallow your medicine cabinet.”

“Oh.” Taking the mug that was handed to her, Syri curled up on her stool and sipped it slowly. She didn’t know what to say to that.

“Anything else?” Picking up a half eaten sandwich from his worktable, Tony took a bite and raised an eyebrow at her. “I called Maya last night, by the way. She said if you’re up to it, she can come out and take a look at you.”

“Is that who you were talking to while I was in the bath?”

“It was,” he nodded. “I needed a little help. As you put it, I don’t know the first thing about working with the human brain.”

“You know enough, obviously. I mean, you created _that_ ,” pointing to the electro-stimulation headband that lay untouched on the table, Syri smirked. “You, at the very least, have an _idea_ of what you’re doing.”

“I put the electrodes in the right spots and let JARVIS do the rest.” Tony admitted, finishing off the sandwich. “But I do know for a fact that it’s harmless. It won’t shock you.”

“You can tell me whatever you like, Mr. Stark, but I’m not putting that thing on my head.”

“Ouch. Again with the Mr. Stark?”

Laughing, the brunette set her coffee aside and slid off of the stool, coming over to plant a kiss to the older man’s cheek. “I’m teasing.”

“Uh huh,” rolling his eyes at her, Tony reached up and brushed a bit of hair away from Syri’s face, smiling faintly. “You know, I packed your little red dress. It’s upstairs, actually. Maybe you should put it on and we could go out?”

“You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

“You told me once that you enjoyed that about me.”

“It _is_ rather endearing,” Syri smiled and leaned in to steal a kiss. “All right. I’ll get dressed. But what are you going to wear?”

“I’ve got a change of clothes in the closet. I’m all set, princess.”

“Okay then.” Slipping away from him, the brunette picked up her coffee mug and headed for the door. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“Take your time, Syri. We’re not in a hurry.”

“Mhm.” Laughing quietly, Syri made her way out of the workshop and up to the bedroom she’d been sharing with Tony. She smirked when she found her favorite red dress laying out on the bed already, and wondered how long Tony had planned this. Kicking her shoes off, she started to undress when she heard a loud crash downstairs and paused. There was the sound of glass breaking and she ran out of the room to peer over the railing. “Tony?”

Syriana screamed when the window nearest her shattered, and shouted for Tony again. She could hear him yelling somewhere downstairs, and she took the stairs two at a time. She slipped near the bottom of the staircase, tumbling down the remaining steps and landing in a heap on the cold marble floor. Her head made an awful sound when it collided with the hard surface, and for a moment, everything seemed to spin in front of her eyes. She groaned in pain, sitting up to rub her head where she’d smacked it. She didn’t have time to dwell on the ache or the blood oozing out of a wound when she heard Tony shouting louder over the sound of the helicopter hovering somewhere outside.

Pushing to her feet, she took off running down the hall to the workshop where Tony stood with his hands up, shouting at three geared up S.H.I.E.L.D agents. A fourth person stood in front of them, and the bit of orange hair Syri spotted made her grit her teeth. Running over, she pushed through the other agents and curled her hand around the holstered gun at the redhead’s hip. Drawing it, she pointed it straight at him and backed up until she hit Tony’s chest.

“You’re alive,” Agent Harris looked _thrilled_ at the discovery. “And here we were expecting a corpse.”

“What’s going on?” Syriana asked, blinking blood out of her eye. She’d cracked her head hard against the floor and though she felt dizzy standing there with the stolen gun clutched tight in her shaking hand, she wasn’t about to move away. Not while these bastards had their weapons pointed at her husband.

“We’ve come to get you, Agent De Luca,” Agent Harris answered, motioning for the others to lower their guns. “To rescue you.”

“It’s _Stark_ ,” Syri spat, narrowing her eyes. “And I don’t need saving from anybody.”

“You’ve been brainwashed, Agent De Luca—”

Syriana fired off a shot that zipped past Agent Harris’ head, steadying her hand and aiming right between his eyes. “I dare you to tell me my own husband was the one who brainwashed me, Brian. I know damn well who did it. I remember _everything_.”

“How?” Tony spoke up behind her, resting a hand on her hip to steer her towards one of the tables. If he could just get the damn bracelets for the Mark Seven, he’d be able to do more than just use the woman as a shield. He almost cursed himself for not bringing the sensors for the Mark Eight suit, but they’d left the Tower in a hurry. When this was all over, he was going to have to be sure to put at least one of the newer suits in each house every time he made an upgrade.

“I don’t know…” Syriana answered, shaking her head. “I just… do.”

“Where are you going, Mr. Stark?” Harris asked, taking slow steps forward to follow the two. “Don’t you feel a little cowardly, hiding behind your wife like that?”

“He’s not hiding,” the brunette snapped, reaching her free hand down to set it on the one Tony had on her hip. “I’m standing here by choice. If you want Tony, you’ll have to shoot through me first.”

“That can be arranged.” Harris smiled wide, his grey eyes narrowing at her.

“Take another step and I’ll blow a hole through you, Brian. S.H.I.E.L.D won’t miss you. We both know that.”

“What makes you think they’ll miss _you?_ ” Harris asked, raising a brow. “Have you ever stopped to wonder why you were dismissed, Agent Stark?”

“I know why I was dismissed. And I’m far more valuable than _you_ , Brian.” A smile curled the corner of Syriana’s lips as she gave Tony’s hand a squeeze and brought the gun to her head. “Like I told Agent Romanoff, I have the information you need _right here_. One little pull of this trigger and you won’t have _anything_.”

“Syri—”

“Shut up, Taplight,” the brunette snapped, giving him a look over her shoulder. She turned back to the man in front of her when she heard glass crunching under his boots. “I told you not to fucking move.”

“What are you going to do, Syriana?” Harris laughed. “Shoot—”

The crack of the gun firing cut Agent Harris off, and his body crumpled to the floor. Syri breathed hard as she leaned back against Tony’s chest for support, and looked to the other agents in the room. “ _Leave_ ,” her voice cracked as she spoke. “Get out of here, _now_.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that.” One of the men said, raising his gun to his shoulder.

Breaking away from Tony, Syri started to march forward with the gun pointed at the agent. “Your man is _dead_. I’ll do the same to you if you don’t—”

“Syriana, put it down,”

Both Syri and Tony looked to the doorway to find a familiar hulking figure dressed in a tight fitting suit standing just beyond the reach of the light. If his voice hadn’t given him away, the shield he held certainly did. Looking back at Tony, who had managed to finally get the bracelets on his wrists, Syriana bit her lip. She didn’t know what to do here. Lucky enough for her, Tony took the cue and moved to stand beside her.

“Whose side are you on, Cap?” The billionaire asked, folding his arms over his chest.

Stepping into the light, Steve looked between the other agents, and the couple. “Now really isn’t the time for this, Tony.”

“Answer the question, Steve,” Syri’s voice trembled a little. She couldn’t believe that Steve would take S.H.I.E.L.D’s side. Tony had said the man knew about what had happened to her; was he really going to fight _against_ her now?

“It’s not a matter of choosing sides, Syri,” Steve walked up closer, nodding to the other agents to lower their weapons once more. “It’s a matter of stopping this before it gets out of hand.”

“I think it’s past the point of being _out of hand_ , don’t you?” Tony asked, raising a brow as he glared at the man standing before him. “They wanted her to gather information on me for them for God only knows what reason. They _kidnapped_ her, Steve. They did things to her to manipulate her mind and force her to believe that she’d never met me in her life, and you’re going to stand there and tell me that it isn’t about choosing _sides?_ ”

“Captain Rogers, sir, what are your orders?” One of the agents asked, shifting his eyes to look at Steve.

“ _Orders?_ ” Syriana choked out, taking a step towards Steve. Shaking Tony off when the billionaire took hold of her arm, the brunette shot Steve a hard look and reached up to wipe the blood off of her face. “You’re running the show, aren’t you?”

“Listen to me, you and Tony need to come with me—”

“Absolutely not.” The petite woman swallowed hard, feeling her hand shake as it tightened around the gun. “Tony, any time you want to suit up…”

“Two steps ahead of you, princess,” Tony’s voice had taken on the mechanical echo when he spoke behind her, and the brunette cringed when she heard the sound of the repulsors charging up. “Call them off, Cap.”

Raising the gun again before Steve could reply, Syri pointed it at the agent nearest her. “Do it, Steve. I have no problem shooting these men.”

“Clearly,” Steve shook his head and came closer, reaching to take the gun from the brunette. He barely had his hand wrapped around her wrist before Syri changed her target and pointed the gun directly between his eyes. Stopping, the blond blinked behind his mask and frowned. “What are you doing?”

“You want to be a traitor, Steve?” Syri clenched her jaw, trying to fight off the tears welling in her eyes. “You’ll die like one.”

“I’m not—”

An explosion from somewhere in the next room knocked the two off of their feet. Syriana dropped the gun when she hit the floor, grunting when she felt Steve cover her to shield her from the rubble falling from the ceiling. Shaking the dazed feeling from her head, she pushed at his chest to try and move him.

“ _Tony!_ ” Looking over Steve’s shoulder, Syri saw that Tony was no longer standing where he’d been before. Elsewhere in the house, she could hear that God awful sound of the repulsor blasts. The entire foundation seemed to shake and she ignored Steve’s warning when she got up to try and find her husband. They couldn’t be separated now. Not while she was vulnerable like this. “ _TONY?_ ”

Ducking down when more of the ceiling started to crumble, Syri squinted through the dust and screamed when someone grabbed her from behind.

“Syriana!” Tony’s voice called over the noise of the gunfire and general chaos, and Syri saw him rise above the wreckage. He raised one of his arms, aiming a tiny rocket on his wrist at the man struggling to haul her out of the house. He had no chance to fire it, however, when someone else joined the struggle. Syriana heard the sound of something metal smashing against the skull of the man attempting to take her out of the house, and looked up when Steve wrapped one of his thickly muscled arms around her.

“We need to get out of here!” he shouted, gesturing wildly at Tony. “ _Now_ , Stark!”

“You, get your hands off!” Tony pointed a finger at Steve, flying towards the two. “Let go of my—”

The room lit up a bright orange as another explosion echoed through the house. Syriana watched in horror as the fireball burned bright and engulfed the Iron Man suit entirely. Ignoring the blistering heat and the glass and rubble digging into her bare feet, she started to scramble towards Tony, and screamed at the top of her lungs when Steve slung an arm around her and tugged her back.

“ _NO!_ ” Kicking her feet when the Super Soldier lifted her up and turned to run the other way, Syriana struggled against his hold and reached frantically towards the black smoke billowing out of the room. “ _TONY! STEVE, GO BACK!_ ”

“We have to leave!” Steve shouted back, dodging a few pieces of falling concrete. “This whole place is going to come down!”

“ ** _TONY! TONY!_** ” Syriana continued to scream until she was hoarse, beating her fists against Steve’s shoulder in between coughing fits. Her head hurt and her ears were ringing, and the tears running down her face stung like acid. But nothing compared to the sharp ache in her chest. She’d never felt anything like it, even during her worst panic attacks. It was almost as if something inside of her was splitting apart; muscle and veins and tendons shredding with every wild pound of her heart. She threw up at some point, but Steve was too busy running to take notice. In fact, he seemed more interested in getting her _away_ from Tony than he was in saving him. As he carried her up to where a helicopter was waiting for them, Syriana watched in a daze as the place where the house stood went up in a single fireball, swallowing up everything in its path.

Tony was inside the house. Tony was inside the explosion. There was no way the suit could withstand something like that. He was dead. She knew it. He was dead, and she’d been spared. She didn’t want this. She wanted to be there, with him. She’d rather burn to death than be without the one person she loved.

A thick fog rolled over her senses as Steve hefted her into the helicopter and crawled in after her. She thought she heard Rhodey’s voice somewhere off in the haze, and she protested weakly when the helicopter began to lift off the ground. They couldn’t just _leave_. They had to go back and get Tony. They had to try and save him. They couldn’t abandon him.

“Turn around,” she slurred, turning her unfocused vision towards the man piloting the bird. “ _TURN AROUND!_ ”

“Rogers, do something about her,” Rhodey muttered back, steering the helicopter away from the smoke that was starting to blow towards them.

“Syriana, listen to me. You have to calm down,” Steve did his best not to hurt the brunette as he held tight to her arms. “Please—”

Wrenching out of his grasp, Syri reached up and slapped the blond. She sat there, glaring at him through the tears and the haze, feeling like she was going to pass out any second now. Pulling away from him completely, the brunette curled up near the window and stared out at the wreckage they were leaving behind. Resting her head against the cold glass, Syri clenched a fist in the front of her shirt as another painful throb tightened her chest and made her wail. There was nothing left now. Without Tony, she had _nothing_ left. Swallowing down another loud sob, Syri tilted her head back and stared up at the ceiling of the helicopter, absently praying to a God she didn’t even believe in to make everything okay again. She barely got past the first frantic plea before the numbness of shock took over and lulled her into blissful unconsciousness.

 


	11. Home Again

“Syriana, you need to eat,” Steve said gently as he came into the room with a bowl of soup in his hand.

“Go fuck yourself.” The brunette turned over in her bed, covering her head with a blanket. She’d been stuck in this barrack for a week now, and had only just come out of her catatonic state two days before. When Rhodey and Steve had brought her here, she’d been oblivious to pretty much everything. The only thoughts in her head were of Tony.

“Syri,” setting the bowl down on the table next to the bed, the Super Soldier ran a hand through his hair. “We went back. I told you this yesterday.”

“You didn’t bring me.”

“We _couldn’t_. You’re in hiding, remember? If anyone had seen you while we were out there—”

“Shut up. Just… _shut the fuck up_ , Steve.” Sitting up, Syri moved to the other edge of the bed and picked up the cigarettes Rhodey had left for her earlier that morning. Lighting up, she got to her feet and headed for the door. “My husband is _missing_ and could be _dead_. I don’t give a flying _fuck_ about being seen.”

“I understand that you’re upset, Syri.” Steve said calmly, following the woman as she walked outside. He and Rhodey had brought her to a small military base just outside of some bumfuck town in California. Her half brother was stationed here, and had offered to let her stay with him and his wife, but she’d declined. “But this isn’t my fault.”

Whirling on her heel, Syriana pointed a finger up at the blond and grit her teeth as her face twisted with rage. “ _You_ didn’t go back for him! _You_ carried me out of there like I was the only one that mattered! I had to watch the place go up in flames, Steve. You had your back to it. _You turned your back on **Tony**!_ ”

“Stop that,” Steve stepped forward, blue eyes narrowed as he frowned hard at the smaller woman. “I didn’t turn my back on _anybody_. I had orders, Syri.”

“Orders? _Orders from whom?_ ”

“Tony,” the blond kept his gaze level with hers. “He set it up. He _knew_ S.H.I.E.L.D was going to show up, and he asked Rhodey and I to make sure you got out safe.”

Staring up at the blond, Syri felt her hands start to shake. Tony had _known_ about this? So the whole act of asking Steve whose side he was on, had been staged? Had he sacrificed himself to make sure she got out alive? Blinking rapidly as a sick feeling began to build in her stomach, the brunette sat down hard on the pavement and brought her cigarette to her lips. She hadn’t even noticed that it’d gone out. Steve crouched in front of her, reaching out to take the cigarette from her and set it aside.

“Syri?” He rested a hand on her shoulder, jerking back when she shoved her hands against his chest.

“Don’t touch me,” Syri muttered, running her fingers through her hair. Curling her knees up to her chest, the petite woman dropped her head forward and cursed loudly. Wrapping her arms around her legs, Syri began to slowly rock in place in an effort to keep from crying. That’s all she’d done the last few days, and she wasn’t sure she had any tears left. “Tony, you _idiot_.”

“He cared about you, Syriana,” Steve sat down on the pavement, watching the younger woman as she sat there tugging at her hair in between muttered curses.

“Don’t do that. Don’t talk about him in the past tense. He’s _not_ dead.” Lifting her head to look at him, Syri shook her head and glanced around at the soldiers wandering around the base. They’d all been polite to her so far, and had done a pretty good job of leaving her alone. Michael’s orders; he didn’t want anyone asking questions or upsetting her. Too bad it wasn’t _these_ particular soldiers she had to worry about. If only he’d instructed Steve to leave her the fuck alone too. “He isn’t dead…”

“We should get you back inside,” getting to his feet, Steve held a hand out to her, not surprised when she didn’t budge. “Syri, please,”

“I want to talk to Michael.” Syriana mumbled as she finally stood up, ignoring Steve when he tried to keep her from stumbling over. She was dizzy, but she didn’t want any help. She didn’t want anyone touching her. “ _Now_ , Steve,”

“Fine.” The blond was really starting to get irritated by the way she was speaking to him. He knew she wasn’t feeling well, but this was getting out of hand. “You could say _please_ ,”

“Please,” the brunette’s voice was soft, and she stared down at her bare feet as she wrapped her arms around herself and fought to keep from swaying in her spot. “I would like to talk to my brother, Steve.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded, relaxing some. “Just do me a favor and go back inside. It’s too cold for you to be out here dressed like that.”

Syri snorted, looking down at the sweats and tank top she wore. All right, so it _was_ a little ridiculous for her to be running around like this in a place where there was snow surrounding the entire base, but she had too much on her mind to care. Nodding at the blond, she turned and wandered back towards the barrack. She paused long enough to let a line of soldiers pass, smiling politely when they bid her a good afternoon. When they were gone, she let the smile fade, and continued on. Once inside, she sat down on the edge of the bed and looked to the bowl of soup Steve had brought her. She couldn’t understand how Steve could continue to be so patient with her when she was so rude to him. He’d been this way when they were dating; letting her go off and do whatever she wanted, and taking the brunt of her vicious words whenever he asked where she’d been. He knew that she’d been sneaking off to see Tony, and part of him had believed that she would grow tired of the billionaire and come back to him. It was funny how things hadn’t quite worked out that way. If anything, Steve’s apparent indifference to her behavior had only pushed her closer to Tony.

“Steve said you wanted to see me?”

Syri jumped at the sound of Michael’s voice, turning around in her seat to stare at her younger half brother. Putting a hand on her chest, she closed her eyes and cursed before getting up. “We need to talk.”

The taller brunet came further into the room and grabbed a chair, pulling it near the bed to sit down. “What’s up?”

“I need a plane, Michael.” Syri said bluntly, ignoring the look she got in return. “I want to go back to Dubai and find Tony _myself_.”

“I can’t do that, Syriana. You don’t even know how to pilot a plane.”

“So send one of your men with me. I don’t care.”

“Have you talked to Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes about this?” Michael asked, raising a brow at Syriana when she lit up a cigarette. He’d asked her not to smoke in the barrack if she could help it, but considering the temperature outside, he figured he’d make an exception for now.

“Rhodey isn’t going to let me go.” Brushing the hair out of her face, Syri leveled her gaze with her brother’s. “I’m asking _you_ , Michael.”

“I can’t do anything without his permission Riana, you know that.”

“ _Bullshit_.” Syriana slapped her hand against the wall nearest her, shooting the brunet a dirty look. “Tony and I risked our necks for you, Mike. Do you remember? Do you remember the shit we had to go through to find you and get you home to Samantha? We bent rules and I got shot _twice_ for you.”

“Don’t do that, Riana.” Michael shook his head at her, moving to get up from his seat. “You can’t guilt me into giving you a plane.”

“What would Daddy say, Mike? If he could see us now, what do you think he’d tell you?”

The brunet chewed his tongue, looking up from the floor to glare at his sister. He knew damn well what his father would say about the situation. But his father was dead, and he didn’t believe in listening to the advice of ghosts. “Until you talk to Rhodes, I can’t do anything. I’m sorry.”

Swallowing hard, Syri stomped up to Michael and grabbed him by the front of his uniform. Shaking him as hard as she could, she let out a sob and let go when she heard the material rip, smacking her hands against his chest. “ _Why won’t you help me?! **Why** , Mike?_”

“ _Because I can’t!_ ” He shouted back, grabbing hold of her wrists. Squeezing them tight to keep her from smacking him again, the younger man gnashed his teeth together and shook his head. “I _can’t_ , Syriana. Giving you a place to hide is the best that I can do and I am truly sorry about that. But I can’t do anything else.”

“He didn’t have to help me find you. He could have just given me the tech and a few tips. Tony never had to actually come with me.” Syri couldn’t stop the tears as they fell down her cheeks. “But he did. Because he knew you were important to me. And I know you don’t approve of him, Mike, but he’s _everything_ to me. I need him. Please… _help me_.”

“I can’t.” The words were cold when they rolled off of Michael’s tongue. Letting go of Syriana’s wrists, the brunet turned to walk out of the barrack and grunted when he felt the slam of a fist against the back of his head. Turning around to face his furious sister, he brought his hands up to block another punch and tried to get hold of her wrists again. “ _Stop_. Riana!”

“I should have left you to _die!_ ” Syriana hollered at the top of her lungs as she did everything she could to stay out of Michael’s grasp while still attempting to jack him in the jaw. “You motherfucker! I went through hell for you! I never should have bothered!”

“ _Syri!_ ” Steve had come into the barrack to figure out what all of the yelling was about, and ran over when he spotted the brunette throwing blows at her brother. He picked her up easily, cringing at the scream she let out. Jerking his head at Michael, he licked his lips and attempted to get the brunette over to the bed. “Get out of here. _Go_.”

Shooting his sister one last startled look, Michael turned and walked out of the barrack. When he was gone, Steve sat down on the bed and tried his best to get Syriana to stop thrashing around. She was going to seriously injure herself or someone else if she kept this up. He would have tried talking to her calmly if he thought she’d be able to hear him over her own shrieking. He had an idea of what was going on, and he was going to have to talk to Rhodey about getting a doctor in here to check her out. If Tony was right about this whole _brainwashing_ thing, then Syriana had been off of her medications for a while now. It _would_ explain quite a few things about her behavior as of late.

As he held tight to the brunette, Steve could feel her starting to relax. Her screaming had stopped and she wasn’t thrashing around half as much as she had been. She must’ve finally worn herself out a little. Looking up when he heard the door to the barrack open, Steve wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or not when Rhodey came in looking concerned.

“What the hell is going on in here?” He asked, careful not to get too close to the bed. “MacManus tells me she attacked him?”

“Motherfucker is a _traitor_ ,” Syri’s voice cracked when she spoke, and she pulled at Steve’s hold on her. “You can let go now.”

“Are you going to punch anyone else?” The blond asked, raising a brow at her.

“No.” Shaking her head, the brunette let out a heavy breath and turned to look at Rhodey with tired eyes. “Did he tell you anything else?”

“He said you asked for a plane.” The man gave her a stern look and waved a hand at Steve. “Let her go, Cap.”

Reluctantly, Steve let go of the petite brunette, watching as she got up and sauntered over to where a few cases of water bottles were stacked. Taking one, Syri cracked it open and took a drink, looking back at Rhodey with a shrug.

“I did.” Her dark eyes were bloodshot and glassy, and she looked like she was about to fall down at any given moment. “He wouldn’t give it to me.”

“And for good reason.” Heaving a sigh, Rhodey sat down in the chair Michael had occupied, and threaded his fingers together. “Syriana, we cannot just let you run off looking for Tony. I have men in Dubai scraping every inch of the disaster site, and nobody has come up with anything.”

“You don’t know where to look.” Crossing the room again, Syri picked up the cigarette she’d dropped when she’d attacked her brother. Lighting it up again, she glared at Rhodey. “I want to go to Dubai. I can’t just sit here and do _nothing_ , Rhodey. He’s my husband, and _your_ best friend.”

“You don’t need to tell me these things, Syriana. It’s not going to help change my mind.”

“And _what_ , may I ask, would change your mind, _Lieutenant Colonel?_ ”

“Nothing.” Rhodey shook his head and watched as the brunette started to pace, frowning lightly. “How have you been feeling?”

“You mean aside from the headaches and the constant worry over Tony’s safety? Fucking peachy.” Taking a deep drag of the cigarette, Syri exhaled through her nostrils and leaned against the wall. “If you’re inquiring about my memories, I can’t exactly recall _everything_ yet. But I can give you vivid details about the way S.H.I.E.L.D fucking tortured me, if you want.”

“That’s not necessary.” Leaning back in his seat, the older man sighed and rubbed at his face. “There’s someone I would like you to talk to, however. I know you were on specific medications for your PTSD, and I want to make sure you’re—”

“Prozac, Zyprexa, Xanax, Gabitril and Lunesta.” Syri muttered around the filter of her cigarette. “That’s what I take. Daily. Can’t remember the exact doses, but I can recover my medical records if you give me a laptop and twenty minutes.”

Raising a brow, Rhodey looked over at Steve, then back to the woman. “I’ll ask about the computer. For now, I want you to rest. You’ve been through a lot, Syriana. I understand how upset you are, and that you want to help. But Tony asked me to take care of you, and that’s what I intend to do.”

“When did Tony tell you to do this?” Syri’s voice was softer now, and she all but refused to look up from the floor. “When did he inform you that I was going to need protection?”

“Tony called me the day you went missing. He asked me to put a bug in the ear of a few _friends_ down at S.H.I.E.L.D to see if you’d been seen. Nothing turned up until you were seen on the security cameras.”

“So you know what’s going on down there, then? You work for the government, Rhodey. Tell me, is it _protocol_ to brainwash someone if they refuse to do your dirty work?”

Rhodey went quiet for a moment, chewing at his tongue before he sighed. “No, it isn’t protocol. But S.H.I.E.L.D has always been the organization to do things their own way.”

“And the country just allows it?”

“I’m not sure how many people are even aware of it, to be completely honest.” Shrugging a shoulder, he watched the woman as she went to sit down beside Steve. “I’ve brought it to the attention of a few colleagues. They won’t get away with it, Syriana. We’re doing all we can to try—”

“Why not just out them? You have Press connections, don’t you? Let me tell them what I went through and maybe if they run a story, it’ll force them to change their ways.” Looking to Steve, Syri picked up the bowl of soup and held it out to him. “Could you please warm this up for me? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Sure,” taking the bowl, Steve got to his feet and headed for the door. “Are you going to behave?”

“I’m not going to attack Rhodey.” Making a face, the brunette rolled her eyes. “Tony would get so mad if I did.”

“I’ll be back.” The blond walked out the rest of the way, closing the door quietly behind him.

“It’s really not that simple, Syriana. S.H.I.E.L.D is still technically a _secret_ agency. They aren’t really well known throughout the country, except by those they’ve approached. The powers that control them are so high up on the food chain that I don’t think our president even knows who they are.” Rhodey explained.

Fiddling with the metal bracelet on her wrist, Syri turned it on and spun it a few times. “…I need to go back to New York. There’s a device at the Tower that could help the case.”

“I told you, I can’t let you leave here right now.”

“Tony told you to protect me. Not hold me hostage.”

“You’re not being held hostage, Syriana.” The older man looked tired as he rubbed a hand over his face and shot her a look. “All of this is for your safety. We don’t know if S.H.I.E.L.D is tracking you or what. This base is out of reach of most communication services, so it’s better if you stay put.”

“Could you ask about that computer, please? I’d like to get that medical stuff taken care of. Maybe it’ll help things…” Pulling her legs up onto the bed, Syri didn’t look at Rhodey. Instead, she kept her eyes on the bracelet, idly running her fingers along the edge. She could feel tears pricking the back of her eyes at the thought of how much she wished she was looking at Tony’s reactor instead of this miniaturized _thing_.

“It won’t be what you’re used to working with.” Rhodey warned as he got up from his seat. “But I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“That’s fine.” She didn’t need a computer that was top of the line for what she wanted to do. She just needed something with a working internet connection and maybe twenty minutes alone with the thing. “I’ll be here.”

With one last nod, Rhodey turned and walked out of the barrack, leaving Syri alone to twirl her bracelet and wait for Steve to bring back her soup. When he was gone, the brunette reached over and took a pad of paper from the table beside the bed, rooting around in the drawer for a pencil. She knew the place she was currently in was literally stuck in the middle of the mountains with no real way to leave unless one had access to a vehicle. That part would be easy. It was getting through the snow and into the city that was going to be a challenge. Getting up from the bed, she wandered over to a stack of papers and books that had been left behind by one of the soldiers, and smirked when she found a recent map of the area. Taking it, she folded it up and shoved it into her pocket just as the door opened again.

Looking up at Steve with a startled expression, she cleared her throat and picked up one of the books before forcing a smile. “Just wanted something to read.”

“Okay.” The blond drawled, holding out the bowl. “Be careful. It’s a little hot.”

Tucking the book beneath her arm, Syri took the bowl with a quiet _thank you_ , and turned to bring it over to the bed. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the mattress, looking back up at Steve. “Do you think they’ll find him? Rhodey’s men, I mean.”

“I think they’ll do everything they can, yes.” The blond nodded, leaning against the doorframe.

“What if it’s not enough?” Syri spooned up a bit of the soup and just stared at it. She wasn’t a big fan of chicken noodle, but she wasn’t going to complain.

“Tony’s a hard man to kill, Syri. You know that. I’m sure that wherever he is, he’s fine.”

“Do you think he’s looking for me?” She took the spoon into her mouth and forced herself to swallow the broth down. She wasn’t hungry, but she figured she might as well fake it while Steve was in the room.

“I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you go back for him, Steve?” Looking back up at the blond, Syri set the bowl in her lap and let her shoulders sag. Her jaw wobbled for a moment as she pressed her lips together tightly and closed her eyes. “Why didn’t you try to save us _both?_ ”

Steve hung his head, unsure of how to answer the question. Finally, he shrugged a shoulder and cleared his throat. “I thought he would be right behind us.”

“You should have left me, Steve,” Syri said quietly, setting the bowl of soup aside. “Tony is far more important than I am.”

“Don’t do that. _Everybody_ is important on some level, Syri.”

“Whatever.” Moving to lie down on the bed, the brunette heaved a sigh. “You can go now. Tell Rhodey I’d like that computer soon.”

“I’ll let him know.” Barely glancing at the younger woman, Steve turned and walked out.

Waiting until she couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, Syriana dug a hand into her pocket for the map she’d taken earlier, and unfolded it. If she was going to make a move, she needed to do it soon; maybe after dark, when things slowed down a little bit. Even then, she had to wait until she got her hands on that computer. She had a plan in mind and she only hoped that she wouldn’t get caught when she put it into action.

X+X+X+X

It was late, somewhere near two in the morning if the clock on the wall was correct, and Syriana was still wide awake listening for sounds of life on the other side of the barrack door. She’d gotten in her computer time and had carefully mapped out a route she could take to get out of this place. It was a twenty nine mile hike along a road that had been closed for the winter, but she was willing to make the trip if it meant being able to freely go where she needed to. She’d packed up a bag with food rations and extra clothes to layer on, and had managed to steal a pair of boots from a soldier who wore nearly the same size. She was ready to leave; she just had to wait until the coast was clear. Waiting until the clock struck two, she rolled out of bed and shoved her feet into the boots, grabbing the bag from beneath the bed and tugging on one of the fatigue jackets over her clothes. Pulling her hair back, she snatched up a cap she’d found in the trunk of the soldier she’d nicked the boots from, and put it on. Making her way over to the door, the brunette opened it just a crack and peered out.

The coast looked pretty clear to her, and she was sure to stay as quiet as she could as she slipped out of the barrack and shut the door behind her. Slinging the bag on over her shoulder, Syri took another look around before bolting for the gate. She’d spied a loose corner of fence earlier in the day that wouldn’t take much to pry up. She moved fast, hooking her fingers in the chain link and tugging it up with all of her might until the corner curled back enough for her to fit through. She shoved the bag through first, grunting as she slipped through after it and then took off running. It was freezing out here, but she had to get far enough away from the base before she could put on another jacket. Ducking behind a few trees, Syri turned on her reactor bracelet and held the light up over the map she’d taken earlier, looking for the route she’d highlighted and digging into her pockets for a compass to check which direction she needed to go.

When she was sure she’d memorized the trail, Syri put everything away and shut the bracelet off before heading off again. She knew that what she was doing was probably insane, but she couldn’t be expected to just sit back and let Rhodey handle things. Not when Tony was quite possibly still out in the world _somewhere_ , probably looking for her. It wasn’t fair that Steve and Rhodey were treating her like a child; she was a grown Goddamn woman and she wasn’t _always_ as fragile as she seemed. And Michael hadn’t been much help either. Her own flesh and blood had denied her of what she needed in order to get out of this place, but she wasn’t going to stay mad at him forever. Her father had asked her to watch out for him, and that was what she was going to do. _After_ she got her husband and her life back.

Sucking in a sharp breath when her boots slid on a patch of black ice, the brunette righted herself and wondered when she’d come to the road she’d been looking for. Shaking her head, she squinted in the dark to read the sign just up ahead, and spun around quickly at the sound of a car coming. It didn’t sound like one of the rumbling military vehicles she very nearly stole from the base, and it certainly didn’t look like one when it got closer and pulled over to the side.

“Need a ride somewhere?” The man behind the wheel asked in a gruff voice when he’d rolled his window down.

“Um…” Licking her lips, the brunette hesitated. “I’m trying to get to Alpine County Airport.”

“You going AWOL or something, ma’am?”

“No sir. Just trying to get home.”

“Get in, soldier,” the man chuckled, reaching over to clear the passenger seat and unlock the door.

Looking back over her shoulder at the lights coming from the base, Syri heaved a sigh and pulled open the door, climbing in. “I appreciate this. I thought I was going to have to walk.”

“You should consider yourself lucky, Syriana,” the man reached up and turned the overhead light on, and Syri nearly jumped out of the car again when Michael smirked at her. “You would have died out on that road.”

“How did you…?” Curling her fingers in the bag that she held, she started to reach for the door handle when Michael rested a palm on her shoulder.

“Did you really think you could run away from a marine base, sis?”

“Are you going to take me back?”

“I should.” The younger man sighed and turned the light off again before shifting the car into Drive and pulling back out onto the road. “But I won’t.”

“Why?”

Shrugging a big shoulder, Michael barely glanced at her. “Because Dad would shoot me point blank if he were still alive. You know he never would have approved of your marriage to Tony, but he’d be the last person to say anything when the priest asked if anyone objected.”

“Daddy always wanted me to be happy.” Syri settled back against the seat, still fiddling with the bag she held. “And it’s not like I married Tony for his money.”

“What _did_ you marry him for?” Michael made a face, trying not to laugh. “I’m not being rude, I swear. I just thought you hated the guy.”

“I do sometimes. But Tony and I…” trailing off, the brunette rubbed at her forehead when a dull ache started to throb between her eyes. She was still feeling the after effects of S.H.I.E.L.D’s mind scramble, and she hated that she couldn’t immediately recall why she’d married Tony. “We love each other in our own way. We might not get along all the time, but we make it work.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I know it doesn’t, but give me a break, all right? My head’s still really messed up.”

“Rhodey said that S.H.I.E.L.D brainwashed you.” Michael slowed the car when they came to a sharp curve. “I didn’t even think that stuff was possible.”

“It’s possible. I’m living proof.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, Syri heaved a sigh and looked over at her brother. “I’m going to need money for a plane ticket, you know.”

“I’ve got you covered.”

“Do you even know where I’m trying to go?”

“Well, let’s see…” Smirking, the brunet glanced at his sister briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “You looked up flights to New York on the computer, and you even tried to book one with a fake credit card. I think it’s cute, by the way, that you deleted the history like I don’t know how to recover it.”

“It would have been easier for you to just get me the plane like I asked earlier.” Syriana shrugged. “You wouldn’t have gotten punched.”

“You hit pretty hard for such a scrawny thing.” Michael laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “Who taught you how to punch?”

“Tony. Well, kind of. I got the basic training when I joined S.H.I.E.L.D, but he introduced me to boxing via his driver, Happy.”

“Remind me not to upset you like that again.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, I’m not exactly in my right mind right now, Mike.” Syri sank back against the seat, absently hugging the backpack to her chest. “Between what I’ve gone through with S.H.I.E.L.D and leaving Tony behind like that, _on top_ of the fact that I haven’t had my meds in quite a while, I think I’m certifiably insane.”

“I’m not going to argue with that.” Smirking faintly, Michael sighed and reached over to give her shoulder a squeeze. “No hard feelings. I promise.”

Smiling, the brunette leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes at the cold feeling of the glass. It actually felt nice against the headache still throbbing in her skull.

“You know,” Michael cleared his throat, pulling onto another road that would lead them to the airport. “Dad told me about that Jesse guy you were with before your accident. It used to piss me off so much that he’d used you the way he did and got you hurt, even though I’d never met you. I used to tell myself if anybody ever did that to you again, I’d kill them.” Pausing a moment, the brunet shrugged a shoulder. “When it came out that you were with Tony, I wanted to sit him down and have a talk with him. I know what the man’s like, y’know? I didn’t care that he’d had a hand in rescuing me. You’re my sister, and I’d do anything to protect you.”

“Mike,” Looking over, the brunette raised an eyebrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I feel horrible for even thinking that he’d hurt you somehow, I guess. You seem really happy with him, even when you’re complaining about him. Whatever you’re planning, Riana, I hope to hell it goes the way you want it to. And I hope you find Tony. Believe me, there will be hell to pay if something goes wrong.” Michael slowed the car as he pulled into the airport parking lot and looked around for a spot. “Dad’s not here anymore. It’s my job to make sure you’re always taken care of.”

Syriana stared at the younger brunet, staying quiet until he’d parked the car in an empty spot. Pushing the bag in her lap to the floor, she leaned over and pulled Michael in for a hug. “I’m so sorry for saying what I said to you, Mike. I didn’t mean it. I was just upset.”

“I know that.” Michael hugged her back tightly and smiled when they pulled away. “Come on. Enough with the mush. Let’s go get you on a plane, sis.”

X+X+X+X

Syriana was groggy when she finally landed in New York. Michael had given her enough money for a cab, and had even given her his cell phone to use until she could get hers replaced. As she sluggishly made her way through the airport, the brunette tried to think of how she was going to get into the Tower without anyone recognizing her and calling either Steve or Rhodey or even S.H.I.E.L.D. Chewing her lip, she stepped outside and hitched her bag higher on her shoulder, lighting up a cigarette before taking the cell phone out of her pocket. It took a few minutes for her to remember the number she was going to call, and she leaned against the side of the building as she waited while it rang.

“Happy? Hey… uh, it’s Syriana. …yes, I’m fine. I’m fine. Um, you haven’t heard from—okay. Listen, I need a ride. I’m at LaGuardia. I need to go to the Tower. …no. No, I’ll explain everything in the car. All right. Thank you. Yes, I promise I’m all right, Hogan. I’m out by the Taxi Pick-Up. I’m the one wearing the army fatigues.”

X+X+X+X

The ride from the airport felt longer than it really had been. Syriana was still exhausted, moreso now that she’d had to relay the entire situation to Happy. The man _still_ hadn’t said whether or not he’d heard from Tony, and she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to keep pressing for an answer. He’d said that S.H.I.E.L.D had brought him in for questioning, but he hadn’t told them a damn thing about what he knew. She was grateful for that. She knew Happy wasn’t just Tony’s driver, but also a good friend. It was nice to see that the man wouldn’t cave under pressure from S.H.I.E.L.D, and she hoped that he wouldn’t get in trouble for sneaking her back into the Tower without anyone knowing.

He’d given her his access card to get in through the back way so she could avoid the man at the front desk, and told her that she could call him if she needed anything. It felt strange being in the elevator with the knowledge that Tony wouldn’t be there to greet her when she got to the top. It actually made her chest ache to think about it, and she did her best to think of her plans instead. Once she’d reached the floor, she took a deep breath and slowly stepped out of the lift, looking around to find everything seemed to be just the way that Tony left it. There was a half empty scotch decanter sitting out near the bar with its top off, and a glass of melted ice alongside it. Cigarette butts littered the floor and there were bits of metal and paper strewn about. There was a fine layer of dust on the surface of the countertops that suggested that nobody had been in here since Tony had stolen her from S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters and whisked her off to Dubai, which she considered a good thing.

It meant that nobody had come in and infiltrated the security systems or would be waiting behind a closed door to kidnap her and repeat the process all over again. Letting out a sigh, she wandered towards the bar and put the top back on the bottle of scotch, looking around at the mess sadly.

_Welcome home, Mrs. Stark._

Syriana jumped a mile in the air and knocked the glass from the counter, covering her face with a hand to muffle the scream that nearly left her throat. “ _JARVIS!_ ”

_My apologies, ma’am. I did not mean to frighten you._

“It’s all right.” Syri swallowed hard, closing her eyes with a curse before she knelt to start picking up the shards of glass. Pausing a moment, she looked up at the ceiling and bit her lip. “JARVIS… are you connected with Tony’s communication program in the suit?”

_I’m afraid that there is no connection, Mrs. Stark._

“Shit.” Rubbing at her eyebrow, she sighed. “All right. Thanks.”

_Is there anything I can do for you, Mrs. Stark?_

“Yeah,” the brunette tossed the glass into the nearest trash bin and stood up straight once more. “Wake up the workshop for me. I’ve got some work to do.”

 


	12. Exhaustion

Three days. Syriana had been awake for three full days, tinkering away in the workshop. She’d broken one of Tony’s rules and asked JARVIS to pull up the plans for one of the Iron Man gauntlet gloves and had gotten to work on one that would not only fit her hand, but run on the power provided by the reactor bracelet. Building the thing had been the easy part. It was figuring out how to wire it so that it would fire a repulsor blast strong enough to blast through concrete that had been difficult. Tony had purposely kept the weapon plans separate from the suit blue prints, and she’d had to do a _lot_ of digging in order to find anything that would even be remotely helpful for her work.

The task was proving to be extremely challenging for her, but she was determined to get it done. She’d never built anything like this in her life; just computers from spare parts and motherboards to replace old ones. She could code programs and hack into things with ease, but piecing together a mechanical glove that would be used as a weapon was not as easy as Tony made it look. Then again, if everything were as easy as Tony made it look, the entire world would be populated with people who had their own Iron Man suits.

It was around the third or fourth time she’d burned herself trying to solder a wire into place that she decided it was time to take a break. She hadn’t eaten much aside from the doughnuts Happy had brought up earlier in the day, and she knew she needed a shower badly. Her dark hair had become greasy and lanky and her fingertips were so stained with motor oil that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get all of it off. So, she finally set the soldering iron aside and put out the cigarette she’d been smoking, turning the chair so she could get up.

“JARVIS,” her voice was raspy from all of the cigarettes and whiskey she’d had over the last few days. “Do me a favor and check to make sure my work is accurate, then put everything to bed.”

_Taking a break, are we ma’am?_

“I should sleep,” Syri mumbled, rubbing her dirty hands over her face. “Everything is starting to blur together.”

_You’ve been awake for over seventy-two hours, Mrs. Stark. Perhaps sleep is the best option._

“What’s the record time anyone’s been awake?” The brunette lit up another cigarette as she left the workshop, locking the door with her passcode before wandering over to the bar.

_The current record is eleven days, held by a man named Randy Gardner. He accomplished the record in nineteen sixty-four, when he was seventeen years old_.

“Thanks for that, JARVIS.” Snorting as she took the top off of one of the bottles of brandy, Syriana shook her head. “God, I haven’t done this in so long.”

_Are you experiencing any hallucinations, Mrs. Stark?_

“Not yet, buddy,” taking a drink of the whiskey, the brunette leaned against the counter and rubbed at her forehead. “I’ll let you know.”

Truth be told, she’d been seeing things out of the corner of her eye all day. Most of what she’d seen had been Dum-E scooting around the workshop, but there had been a few instances where there hadn’t been anything at all when she’d lifted her head to look. She’d blamed it on paranoia, and of course the lack of sleep, and she’d turned around and gone back to her work without saying a word to JARVIS. She didn’t think it would do much good anyway. The AI probably would have just advised her to leave the work for another time and get some sleep. As she put her cigarette out in the ashtray nearby, Syri took one last drink of the brandy and put the cap back on the bottle. She needed to get into the shower before she lost all ability to function.

Pushing away from the counter, she groaned at the lightheaded sensation that followed the movement, and froze when she heard the elevator moving behind the metal doors just in front of her. Happy had gone home for the evening, and she hadn’t spoken to Rhodey or Steve since her departure from the base. Needless to say, she wasn’t expecting company. Crouching down, she slid open a cabinet door and felt around for the gun she’d stashed in here after she’d gotten back from California, and kept her blurry eyes trained on the elevator. Her mouth went dry as the light above the lift flashed on, indicating that the elevator was coming to a stop, and curled her fingers tight around the handle of the gun. The doors slid open and she had to force herself not to shout when a battered looking Tony stumbled out.

Syriana’s entire body seemed to tighten at the sight of him, scratched up and bruised and walking with a limp. He wore none of the armor she’d last seen him in, and the bodysuit was torn and burned in several places. He looked exhausted as he steadied himself and looked around, frowning when he appeared to smell the lingering scent of the cigarette she’d put out moments before. Holding her breath as she watched him turn and start towards the bar, Syri got to her feet and pointed the gun at him.

“ _Whoa!_ ” Tony almost seemed to jump out of his skin at the sight of her, his dark eyes going wide as he threw his hands up. “Princess, it’s me.”

“How do I know that?” Syri asked, clearing her throat when she felt it tighten. S.H.I.E.L.D had tricked her before with the Phil clone; she wouldn’t put it past them to try it again with one modeled after her husband.

Tony licked his bruised lips and very slowly made his way over to the bar. Keeping his eyes on her, he grabbed a shard of glass out of the bin Syri had neglected to empty, and pressed the jagged edge against his palm. Holding the hand out to her, he kept his gaze level with hers and murmured, “LMDs don’t bleed.”

Watching the bead of crimson roll down Tony’s hand, Syriana threw the gun down and ran at the billionaire. Throwing her arms around his neck, she jumped into his arms and buried her face against his shoulder with a sob. “ _TONY!_ ”

Cringing at the pain of having the brunette squeezing his injured form, Tony wound his arms around her and held her to him tightly. One hand came up to cup the back of her head as he pressed his lips to her temple and fought to stay standing. “Jesus Christ, I thought I’d never see you again.”

Syriana couldn’t speak. She was so overwhelmed that she could hardly do more than cry against his shoulder and grip him tight. God, he smelled horrible; like smoke and dirt and blood and God knew what else that had accumulated since the last time they’d seen each other. But that wasn’t reason enough for her to pull away from him. She was just so damn relieved to have him here with her that she just sobbed incoherently and occasionally squeezed her limbs around him.

“Princess,” the billionaire hissed when Syri’s thighs squeezed his sides a little too hard. “I really hate to do this, but I _am_ dealing with some broken bones here.”

“What?” Pulling back to look at him, the brunette blinked the tears out of her eyes and studied his face. The blood had long since dried, and the bruises were probably darkened by the dirt on his skin, but it was clear that he was hurt. Instantly, she dropped her legs from around his waist and stood back just enough to take a look at him. The skin beneath the missing patches of the bodysuit was burnt as well, and the way Tony was trying to keep most of his weight on one foot suggested that he’d either sprained or broken the other one. Judging by the fact that he’d spoken up about the pain when she’d tightened her legs around him, his ribs were probably what were ailing him the most. “Oh my God, _Taplight_ ,”

“It’s all right.” Tony cupped her face in his hand and kissed her forehead. “There’s no real permanent damage.”

“How do you even know that?” Syri asked, her voice sounding choked.

“Do you really think Rhodey would have let me come home if I was seriously wounded?”

“Rhodey?” she parroted, knitting her brows together. “Did he know where you were the whole time?”

“No.” Shaking his head, Tony drew the brunette closer, rubbing a hand up and down her back. After what he’d been through over the last week, all he wanted was to keep her close to him. “They picked me up the day after you left the base. Smart move, by the way. Escaping from the one place you were guaranteed to be safe.”

“Don’t get mad at me, Tony. I couldn’t stay there and do _nothing_.”

“I understand that, but you should have taken Steve with you. Or Michael.”

“Steve wouldn’t let me leave, and neither would Rhodey. Michael has a wife to think about, Tony. I couldn’t have asked him—”

“Hush,” Tony dipped his head and planted a kiss to her lips. “Stop talking for a minute.”

Nodding, Syri closed her eyes at the next kiss that followed, running her fingers into Tony’s filthy hair as he tightened his arm around her and rested his forehead to hers. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and the only sound in the room was the light hum of Tony’s reactor. Syriana had never been so happy to hear the sound before, and she started to rest her head against his chest, only to draw away and wrinkle her nose.

“God, you reek.” She muttered, watching Tony roll his eyes.

“I didn’t feel like wasting any time bathing. You don’t smell all that great yourself, princess.” Studying her, the billionaire frowned. “You look exhausted.”

“I’ve been working,” Syri confessed, lowering her gaze. “I didn’t want to sleep. I was afraid to.”

“Nightmares?”

The brunette nodded, unwilling to discuss the subject further. “I’ve been off my meds, y’know? Haven’t felt all that great, but I’ve actually been able to focus pretty well up until about an hour ago.”

“How long have you been awake?”

_Mrs. Stark has been awake for over seventy two hours, sir. And may I say it’s good to have you home._

“Thanks buddy,” Tony smiled up at the ceiling. “Good to know you’re still up and running.”

“I don’t think the explosion affected him.” Syri said quietly, tracing her fingers along a scratch on Tony’s cheek. “His memory bank seems to be completely intact.”

“That’s because I don’t bring the whole program when I go mobile.” The billionaire smirked. “And the JARVIS program is automatically backed up every hour when I’m working so that I don’t lose data.”

“Smart idea.” Syri smiled, trying to keep her eyes open. “Then again, look who came up with it.”

“You’re complimenting me. I think it might be time to put you to bed.” Tony teased, giving the brunette a kiss to her forehead.

“No,” shaking her head, Syri fought back a yawn. “No, I need to get cleaned up first. You too.”

“Princess, you don’t look like you can stand for very much longer.”

“Neither do you.”

“You would be correct on that count.” Smirking, Tony ran a hand through his hair and looked around before glancing back at the younger woman. “Bath?”

Syriana nodded. “Bath. JARVIS?”

_At your service, ma’am._

“Bath. Hot, please. Fill it about… three quarters of the way, please.”

_Right away, ma’am._

“Thanks,” heaving a sigh, Syri looked back to Tony and raised an eyebrow at the expression on his face. “What?”

“It still astounds me how easily he listens to you. It took forever for me to get him to obey commands from Pepper. What makes you so special?”

“I’m your _wife_ , Tony.” The brunette rolled her eyes, laughing shortly as she turned to start walking towards the bathroom. “AI or not, I’m pretty sure JARVIS understands what that means. Besides, he doesn’t take _all_ of my commands. He’s still pretty good at ignoring me when I’m trying to access your tech.”

“You’ve been accessing my tech?” Tony followed with a slight hobble to his walk, trying not to stare too hard when the younger woman began taking off her clothes.

“I had to. I know I broke the rule, but it was important.”

“How important? What the hell were you doing with it?”

“Calm down, will you?” Pausing long enough to bend and untie her boots, Syri kicked them off and started on her pants. “I was building something. A weapon.”

“You were building a weapon with _my_ tech? Syri, you don’t know the first thing about—”

“I know enough to get by. Maybe you can help me with the rest now that you’re home.” Looking back at him, the brunette licked her lips. “After you heal up a little.”

“I’m perfectly fine to work.” Tony stripped the top half of the ruined body suit off, hissing when the material scraped painfully over his bruises. “You just have to tell me what it is you’re building.”

“Let me do that,” coming over with her pants hanging loosely around her hips, Syri gently helped Tony disrobe, her dark eyes taking in the damage that had been concealed by his clothing. Running her fingertips over a dark bruise on his side, she shook her head and tugged at the bottom half of the body suit. “I was building a repulsor glove.”

“Uh huh, and how did you plan on powering it?” Tony watched her, folding his arms over his chest. He did everything he could not to wince or sway while his little wife undressed him.

“With the reactor cuff,” waiting for him to step out of the body suit, Syri sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “JARVIS said there’s enough power in it to fire off a few dozen blasts.”

“Stand up,” Tony waved a hand, steadying the woman when she rose to her feet and nearly stumbled backward into the wall. Frowning some, he started to help her get her pants off the rest of the way. “It wasn’t meant for that, Syriana. It would die after maybe twenty shots.”

“As long as one of those shots hits Fury in the good eye, that’s all I care about.” Stepping out of her pants, Syriana looked up at Tony and blinked back the swell of tears that had gathered in her eyes. “He almost got you killed, Tony. He scrambled my brains and made me try to forget you, to forget about _us_. I can’t forgive him for that. I _won’t_ forgive him for it.”

Tony stood chewing at his busted lip for a moment before he clicked his tongue and carefully gathered the brunette into his arms. Kissing the side of her head, the billionaire ran a hand up and down her back, and sighed. “Let’s talk about this later. You’re exhausted, _I’m_ exhausted. We both smell to high heaven. Why don’t we get into the tub and worry about it tomorrow?”

“Will you help me finish it, Tony?” Syriana asked, blinking up at him tiredly. “Please?”

Cupping the side of her face, Tony shook his head. “You’re going to finish it by yourself, princess. You’ve got the brain for it. I’ll give you a pointer or two, but this project is your own. You started it without me, and it’s only fair that you finish it that way.”

“And what if I fuck it up?”

“You’re not going to fuck it up, Syriana. I’ve never seen you fuck up a single project the entire time I’ve known you. You can do this. I believe you can do it.”

Syriana looked a little frustrated as she nodded, looking over her shoulder at the tub. “We should get in before it gets cold.”

“Just a minute,” taking hold of her elbow, the billionaire kept her from walking away from him. “You’re doubting yourself, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” Huffing, the younger woman let her gaze drop to their feet. “I’ve never done anything like this before, Tony. I don’t build _weapons_. I still can’t figure out how you get the damn repulsors to work. I’ve scoured the blue prints a hundred times and I can’t figure it out…”

“You’ll get it. You just need a good night’s sleep, trust me.”

“If you say so.”

“Keep acting like that and I’ll walk right back out of this Tower and I won’t come back until you’re done with that glove.” Tony’s tone suggested that he was damn serious about his threat, and when Syri looked back up at him, he only narrowed his eyes at her. “If that’s what it will take for you to suck it up and stop this self depreciating bullshit, then that’s exactly what will happen.”

“You’re one to talk.” Syri muttered, pulling out of his grasp to wander over to the tub.

“Do you remember what you told me when I had that breakdown a while back? When I showed up at your place sloshed out of my mind, spouting off about how I was always just going to be _Iron Man_ and _Howard’s son?_ ”

Licking her lips, Syri fought to bring the memory forth, cringing against an ache in her skull that made her bring a hand to her forehead. Shaking her head, she looked back at him over her shoulder and visibly deflated. “…I’m still having problems remembering things, Tony. The blow to the head only brought back certain things. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember that.”

“You slapped me across the face and told me to knock it the fuck off.” Tony tried to pretend that the fact Syriana couldn’t remember that particular incident didn’t hurt him somewhere in his chest. “You told me that I was more than that; I wasn’t just a man in a mechanical suit or a child stuck beneath my father’s shadow. So do me a favor and knock this shit off, will you? You’re so much smarter than you believe yourself to be. The brainwashing wiped your memories, princess. Not your smarts.”

“I get it, okay?” Turning away, Syri carefully climbed into the tub, hissing at the temperature of the water. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to fight. I spent the last week and a half worrying over you. I just want to spend a few minutes with you where we aren’t at each other’s throats.”

“Fine.” Tony grunted, walking over to the side of the tub. Waiting for the younger woman to get situated, he stepped in and sat down slowly, raising a brow when Syri shifted to accommodate him between her knees and pulled him back against her chest. He smiled faintly as the brunette rested her chin on his shoulder, and tilted his head to rest it lightly against hers. “Better, princess?”

“Yes. You still smell like a foot, though.”

Rolling his eyes with a dry laugh, Tony reached for one of the washcloths and hissed when Syri swatted at his hand to grab it first. He said nothing as he watched her dip it in the water and scrub it against a bar of soap. When she started to run it over his skin, he was surprised at how gentle her touch was. Leaning back against her a little more, Tony closed his eyes and relaxed with a quiet sigh. Every so often, he’d flinch if a particular bruise was prodded too much, but for the most part he didn’t fuss. He was just starting to doze off when Syriana kissed the side of his head and nudged his back gently.

“Hm?” Turning to look at her through lazy eyes, the billionaire raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“I can’t get your back.” Syri said quietly, sounding just as tired as Tony felt.

“All right.” Letting out a heavy breath, Tony mustered up every last ounce of energy he had to sit up, grumbling at the way his ribs ached when he leaned forward so Syriana could scrub his back for him. He smiled faintly at the kiss she planted to his shoulder, and yawned widely.

“I won’t take long, I promise,” the brunette promised, gently rubbing the dirt from the older man’s skin with the rag. “Let me know if it hurts, okay?”

“You’re doing fine, princess.”

“So,” tracing her fingers along a light scar on Tony’s back, Syri soaped up the rag again and tried to keep her eyes from drooping shut. Being submerged in the hot water like this was making her much sleepier than she already was. “How much damage did you sustain?”

“Eh,” Tony shrugged. “Sprained ankle, few broken ribs and some burns and bruises. Nothing out of the ordinary, really.”

Syri scoffed, dipping the rag into the water to rinse Tony’s skin. “I can’t believe Rhodey let you come here in that condition.”

“I wasn’t taking _no_ for an answer, princess. Much like someone else I know.”

“You’re foolish. I wasn’t injured aside from the bump to the head when I fell down the stairs.”

“Steve told me about how you cracked your brother in the face.” Tony turned his head to look at the younger woman, shifting in the tub to take the washrag from her and lather it up with soap. “Mike was sporting quite the shiner, too.”

“I apologized,” Syri mumbled, allowing Tony to pull her close so he could return the favor of cleaning her up. “He’s the one that took me to the airport and got me on a plane.”

“Only _after_ he realized you were going to try and take a thirty mile hike down some closed, snowed in road.” Shaking his head, the older man sighed. “Which one of us is the foolish one?”

“How did you get out of the house?” Syriana didn’t want to talk about her interrupted mission. It would only lead to another unnecessary fight. “I saw the explosion. I watched it swallow the suit. How…?”

Dropping the washcloth into the water, Tony reached to gently grasp Syri’s chin and tip her head up to kiss her. Resting his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re getting upset,”

“I’ve _been_ upset, Tony. Kissing me is not going to change that.”

“I don’t know how I got out, okay?” Shrugging a shoulder, the older man stroked his fingers along her jaw and lowered his gaze. “I thought I was a goner for sure, to be completely honest. The second explosion completely fucked the suit. I don’t know what S.H.I.E.L.D put in those explosives, but it cut off communication and it pretty much turned the suit into a useless coat of armor.”

The sound Syriana made was like a short, wet gasp. Clearing her throat, determined to hear the story without breaking down, she shook her head. “…and?”

“And I woke up on a beach with a bunch of kids standing over me, poking me with a stick. I don’t know how I got there. It took a while for Rhodey and his men to find me, I know that.”

“I told Steve to go back. I begged him and he wouldn’t listen.”

“And for good reason.” Heaving a sigh, Tony fished around for the washcloth to finish cleaning Syri up. “I told him not to look back no matter what. Steve’s a good soldier. He listens to orders, and he follows through on his promises. I told him to keep you safe, and that’s what he did.”

“Do you know what that did to me, Tony? Seeing you disappear like that?” Syriana was starting to lose her composure, and she swallowed audibly to try and loosen her throat. “I’ve never felt so helpless. Even when Jesse…”

“Syriana,” threading his fingers through Syri’s hair, Tony shook his head. “Stop. You’re going to give yourself a panic attack. Please, princess. I’m here now. I’m okay. Don’t work yourself up like that.”

“I’m already worked up, Tony!” Syri slapped the surface of the water with a frustrated hand. “God _dammit!_ I thought I’d lost you! And then I find out you orchestrated this whole thing with Steve and Rhodey. For _my_ benefit. _What about you?_ ”

“I never planned to make it out alive, princess. Is that what you want to hear? I knew S.H.I.E.L.D was going to come for you, and all I wanted was to make sure that they didn’t take you. I would have done anything to keep you safe.”

“Why? Why would you bother, Tony?”

“I don’t know, princess. Why would you bother holding a gun to your head and threaten to blow your brains out for _my_ benefit?”

“Because I love you! I would do anything to protect you!”

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t do the same?”

Syriana stilled beside Tony, staring down into the murky bathwater with an expression on her face that suggested she hadn’t even thought of that. It wasn’t that she thought Tony was too selfish to sacrifice himself for someone else; it was the thought of him considering her life more important than his. It was easy for her to jump in front of a bullet for someone else. That’s just how she was. But Tony? Tony had never been one for taking a hit meant for someone else. Closing her eyes, the brunette swore quietly and rubbed a hand over her face. She was so damn tired that she wasn’t thinking straight at all. Tony was her husband; that had to mean _something_ , right? He’d gone out of his way recently to keep her as safe and as sane as he could. He’d aided her in her campaign to take down S.H.I.E.L.D. He’d worked tirelessly and put up with her attitude while she was still scrambled, and he’d instructed Steve and Rhodey to make sure she was safe if something bad ever happened. How could she ever think that Tony wouldn’t put himself on the line for her?

Flinching when she felt a brawny arm wind around her shoulders, Syri looked up and shifted to settle against Tony’s chest. Reaching up to curl her fingers over one of his shoulders, she curled up between his legs and tucked her head beneath his chin. Neither of them spoke for a while until Tony pressed his nose to her hair and sighed. “We’re both alive. That’s all that matters now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I wouldn’t believe it either, princess.” Pulling back to look at her, he smiled faintly and gave a lock of her hair a tug. “Let’s finish up here and go to bed. God knows we’ll end up drowning if we stay in here much longer.”

Nodding, Syri pulled away to wash her hair, watching Tony do the same. They stayed silent as they shampooed and rinsed, and the brunette kept wincing as she got suds in her eyes. Hearing Tony grunt before he took the shower attachment from her, she started to ask what he was doing and sucked in a sharp breath as he sprayed her down with the thing.

“That’s _cold!_ ” Pushing at the hand holding the attachment over her head, Syri tried to move away from him. “ _Tony!_ ”

Laughing, the billionaire shut the water off and brought Syri back to kiss her cheek. “Don’t get so mad, princess. I’m only playing.”

“You’re a jerk,” Syri grunted, narrowing her eyes. “I ought to do that to you.”

“How old are you again?” Tony teased, still chuckling. “I only ask because you sound like you’re about five years old right now.”

“Not funny.” Scrunching her nose, the brunette sighed and fought back a yawn. “I’m getting out.”

“Hang back for a minute, princess,” Tony rested a hand on her arm. “I still have to rinse this out of my hair, and I’m going to need a little help getting out of the tub.”

“Oh,” she hadn’t thought about his injured foot. “All right.”

Smiling faintly, Tony made quick work of getting the shampoo out of his hair, muttering under his breath about the temperature of the water. Looking to the brunette when he was through, he flashed a sheepish grin. “Ready to help an old man out?”

“Stop that,” Syri snapped, getting out of the tub first. Closing her eyes against the wave of lightheadedness that followed, she braced her hands on the edge of the tub and let out a heavy breath. “Christ,”

“Take it easy, princess.” The billionaire started to get up from his spot in the tub, frowning at Syri. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” nodding, Syri stood up straight again and held a hand out to him. “C’mon, let’s get you out.”

Eyeing her, Tony took hold of Syri’s offered hand and did his best not to pull at her too hard as he stood up. Hissing at the pressure he put on his foot, he carefully stepped out and shook his head. “This is ridiculous. That better heal fast.”

“Stay off of it for a few days and you’ll be fine.” Looping an arm around Tony’s back, Syri brought one of his arms around her shoulders and looked up at him. “Just lean on me, all right? We’ll dry off in the bedroom.”

“What’s the point?” Tony muttered, hobbling alongside the brunette as she helped him into the adjoining bedroom. “I’m too tired to care, honestly.”

“You really wanna go to bed all wet like this?”

“Unless you want to be the one to towel me off, princess, then yes. That’s just fine with me.”

Heaving a sigh, Syri shrugged as much as she could and nodded, steering him towards the bed. “All right. Whatever you want, Taplight.”

Once he’d sat down on the bed, Tony ran his fingers through his wet hair and looked over at the brunette. Wrapping an arm around her before she could get up, he gently pulled her into his lap and buried his face against her neck. Syriana didn’t fight him; turning to curl a hand around the back of his neck, she closed her eyes and sank against him as much as she could without upsetting any of his bruises. They sat there for a while, dozing lightly in their upright positions and occasionally running their fingertips along random patches of skin. It wasn’t until Tony pulled back to look at her that Syriana noticed the hard-on pressing against the back of her thigh.

“I missed you,” Tony said quietly, pressing an absurdly soft kiss to her mouth. “God, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too…” Gently scratching her nails through his hair, Syri let out a soft gasp when one of Tony’s hands swept over her scarred belly and up higher to skim across one of her breasts. “Tony…”

“Hm?” The brunet had begun to kiss her neck, his unkempt goatee scratching lightly at her skin.

“You’re injured, and I’m about dead on my feet.”

“I know,” he nibbled a spot below her ear, half smiling when the younger woman moaned quietly and squirmed in his lap. “It’s just been so long, princess.”

Any lingering thoughts of whether or not the man stroking his fingertips along her thigh was an LMD quickly went straight out the window. Sure, Syri had still had her doubts even after witnessing Tony bleed, but the tenderness in the touch seemed to prove that this was in fact her husband. Turning her head to lure him into a deep, needy kiss, the brunette bit gently at his bottom lip and rested her forehead to his when she pulled away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. I’ll be careful.” He promised, tucking his fingers between her thighs to lightly trail them along the inside of one. “I promise.”

“Okay,” Syriana relented, unable to deny that she wanted it just about as bad as Tony appeared to. Giving him one last kiss, the brunette slid out of his lap and started to crawl onto the bed when she felt the older man turn and cover her back with his chest. Pressing her into the mattress, Tony kissed and bit at her shoulders, working his way down her spine, then back up again. Pulling a pillow into her arms, Syri buried her face against it and arched forward at a particularly sharp bite. She could feel the press of the reactor against her skin, and turned her face away from the pillow so she could speak. “Not like this, Tony,”

“I know,” he mumbled back, planting a kiss to one shoulder blade, and then the other before sitting upright again. “Turn over for me, princess.”

Taking her sweet time, Syriana rolled onto her back, chewing at her bottom lip to stop a smile as she parted her knees to let him rest between them. She groaned a little at his warm weight pressing her into the mattress once more, bringing her hands up to cup his face and pull him in for a deep kiss. The feel of Tony’s callused hands skimming down the sides of her thighs had her squirming lightly, and she nipped at his lip when he pushed his hips against her eagerly. She had to admit, it was ridiculously hot how he seemed to want her so badly even though he was injured and _should_ have been too tired to move. Shifting to accommodate his hips between her thighs, Syriana closed her eyes and let out a soft gasp when the older man lined himself up and slid in slowly.

Tony moved in slow rolls of his pelvis that had him sinking deep and groaning quietly against Syri’s lips. He did his best not to cringe in pain whenever his ribs throbbed in protest, too determined to reacquaint himself with his wife’s body after going so long without her. He rumbled low at the touch of her hands running along his back, pausing when a particularly sharp twinge in his chest actually made him hiss through his teeth.

“Tony,” the brunette looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with worry. She knew he wasn’t in any condition to be doing this. But she also knew he wasn’t going to stop until they were both satisfied. Giving his shoulder a light push, the younger woman shook her head at him. “Switch places with me.”

“What?”

“Get on your back, Stark,” Syriana shot him a look that suggested it was in his best interest not to argue. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you continue like that.”

Giving his wife a disgruntled sort of look, Tony relented. He wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but she was right. His ribs were already killing him, and if he kept up with the repetitive motions like that, he would probably regret it later. Licking his lips, he curled his hands around her hips tightly, and with a grunt, rolled them both over so he was on his back and she sat straddled over his hips. Raising a brow, he smirked at the smaller woman. “Better, princess?”

Syriana smiled, leaning over the billionaire to steal a soft kiss. Rolling her hips into him with a low moan, she nodded. “Yes. Let me know if—”

“Princess,” Tony stopped her, trailing his fingers along her skin. “You’ll be the first to know if it hurts.”

“Right.” Kissing him again, Syri bit her lip and began moving her hips slowly, twisting them in tight circles just to hear Tony groan in approval. She knew he preferred it when he was on top, but he’d confessed before that he enjoyed it when the brunette took things over for a little while. Closing her eyes a little as she felt Tony running his fingers over whatever bit of skin he could reach, Syri did her best to resist the urge to rest her hands on his chest the way she usually did, and screw him into the mattress like she wanted to. She would feel terrible if she hurt him now, when they were both vulnerable like this. He was wounded, and she was so tired that she was starting to get dizzy; accident or not, hurting him now would probably have some serious repercussions later on.

“I’m not _that_ fragile, princess,” Tony grunted beneath her, startling the brunette a bit when he took hold of her hips again and showed her how he wanted her to move them. “Don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.”

A snort escaped the younger woman as she cracked her eyelids and looked down at him. She’d given him a similar line a few years ago when they’d started this whole thing. Shaking her head, she leaned over him and kissed him softly, rutting her hips into him the way he wanted her to. She was almost too tired for this, but she couldn’t stop now. The pleasure running through her was hot and comforting in a strange way. She had really missed being with Tony, both like this and just in general.

“You’re distracted,” Tony chuckled in Syriana’s ear as he smoothed his hands along her back. “Maybe we should give it a rest.”

“No,” she mumbled back, shaking her head. “I’m almost there. It’s okay.”

“Syri, baby stop,” cupping the younger woman’s face in his hands, Tony tilted his head up a little to plant a kiss to her forehead. “It’s all right. I… don’t know how much longer I can keep it up, anyway.”

“Is it me?” The question was automatic, and Syri was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

“No princess,” the billionaire snorted, looking tired when the brunette picked her head up to look at him. “Trust me, it’s not you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to try?”

“I think we’d have better luck when we weren’t exhausted.”

Syriana would have been lying if she said she didn’t completely agree with him. As much as she wanted to finish, she was teetering on the edge of blacking out. Carefully moving off of Tony, she settled herself beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. Letting him put an arm around her, she smiled at the kiss he pressed to the top of her head, and gently draped an arm over his middle. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Taplight. I would have lost what’s left of my mind if I never saw you again.”

“I’m glad I’m okay too, princess,” Tony mumbled into her hair, sounding like he was going to pass out at any second. “I’m not quite ready to die just yet.”

Turning to kiss Tony’s jaw, Syri sighed and tugged one of the blankets over them. “…love you, Tony.”

“Love you too princess. Now get some sleep. We’ve got a lot of work to do in the morning.”


End file.
